Ten Years of Cultivation

Mo Chuan withdrew his gaze and reached up to touch his brow.

The silver vermilion the old man had dabbed onto his forehead suddenly dispersed, turning into wisps of incense smoke that poured into his body and transformed into surging primordial qi.

"Ten years of cultivation!?"

Mo Chuan sensed it briefly, and his heart immediately trembled.

The sheer magnitude of this incense offering far exceeded his imagination. It had granted him ten full years of cultivation in one breath!

What surprised him even more was that, unlike before, when he could only partake of incense offerings after resolving people's calamities and misfortunes—

This incense bore no karmic shackles whatsoever, containing only the purest blessings and the most devout faith in the gods.

Could it be because the one making the offering was already dead, with no one left to fulfill the vow?

They said Shehuo Parades entertained the gods, while incense offerings entertained men.

But I... am not a god after all, am I?

Mo Chuan let out a soft breath and looked around. The streets had collapsed, and devastation lay everywhere he looked.

Amid the rampant weeds, corpses could faintly be seen.

Upon closer inspection, he could still make out objects from the Shehuo Parade.

Only, after being battered by wind and sun, their colors had faded, leaving them mottled and shabby.

"Looks like they were holding a Shehuo Parade when disaster suddenly struck, leaving the lingering souls' memories forever trapped in that moment."

"What kind of disaster could it have been?"

Lost in thought, Mo Chuan began circling the village as he investigated.

After making two rounds, however, he found nothing at all.

He had to admit that beneath the washing of time's long river, no matter how many traces there had once been, they would eventually vanish