After more than a dozen hours on the road.
The black Maybach finally drove into the towering mountains of the Southwest.
The road here grew rough and bumpy.
Outside the windows, bustling cities gave way to endless stretches of primeval, mysterious jungle.
The farther they drove, the fewer people they saw.
The occasional people they passed were locals from the Miao Borderlands, with dark skin and distinctive traditional clothing.
Only when Yue Xiaofei saw what came next did he truly understand what his father had meant by saying, "The Witch King holds absolute authority in the hearts of the people of the Miao Borderlands."
Up ahead, a dense crowd knelt along the mountain road.
There were hundreds of them, men and women, young and old.
Every face wore an expression of almost fanatical devotion.
Facing a golden peak that loomed faintly in the distant clouds and mist, they touched their foreheads to the ground every three steps and knelt in worship every five.
Their foreheads and knees were already slick with blood, yet they seemed to feel no pain.
They murmured chants of ancient, obscure syllables.
The sight made Yue Xiaofei's scalp prickle.
"What... are they doing?"
"Making a pilgrimage."
Yue Changlong's tone, Yue Changlong's tone, was cold as iron.
"Today is the Witch Gate's once-a-decade Witch God Festival. Every believer must travel a thousand miles on foot, kneeling three times and kowtowing nine, to reach the Golden Palace and receive the Witch King's 'blessing.'"
"They believe that if their hearts are devout enough, the Witch King will protect them, ward off calamity, cure their illnesses, and extend their lives."
"Blessing?" A cold smile curled Yue Xiaofei's lips. "Looks more like they're going there to get slaughtered."
"More or less," Yue Changlong said flatly. "Every Witch God Festival is when