"Fu Qiong" Patriarch beckoned, and an exceedingly humble thatched hut appeared at once. Its interior was bare, utterly empty save for a half-worn rush cushion placed in the center of the room.
The hut's door stood wide open. "Fu Qiong" entered, sat cross-legged on the cushion, and the door immediately shut, cutting off the view from outside.
With a sweep of "Xīng Hèn" Patriarch's sleeve, bones sprang into existence. In the blink of an eye, a small, bone-white tower had been built. Its furnishings were exquisite and refined, all in shades of bone. Embroidered curtains hung low, concealing a graceful figure within.
"Yīng Níng" Patriarch, meanwhile, took out a cradle no bigger than an infant's palm. With a single step, she crossed into it.
The cradle hung in the air, swaying gently. "Yīng Níng" Patriarch lay inside, and gradually the cradle grew more and more indistinct, like a reflection of flowers in a mirror or the moon on water, impossible to see clearly. Yet its creaking remained sharp and clear, ringing without end.
At a thought from "Huai Bu" Patriarch, a blood-red palace shifted out of the void. Its many gates crashed open, and countless painted-skin beauties knelt on the ground, respectfully welcoming their master inside to rest.
The other eight great sects likewise brought out all manner of treasures to dwell in. For a time, the city of Lanke blazed with precious light, its auras roaring.
Countless jade palaces and demonic lairs rose in turn, packed tightly together in a lively scene. It was as though this long-desolate city had been rebuilt in a matter of moments.
"Death" and "Misfortune" stood motionless. A vast Yin Qi surged up behind them, and two enormous thrones rose into the air. In an instant, they were seated upon them, hanging upside down