Half a month later.
The last rain of late spring fell.
A fine drizzle dampened the mountain forest and soaked into the soil.
On Passing Peak of Floating Cloud Mountain, a cemetery had been completed. The mountainside served as its walls, and yellow earth formed its grounds. Soul-refining formations were carved into the walls, and pines, cypresses, locusts, and willows grew all around. Pines and cypresses embodied unsullied integrity; locusts and willows brought clarity to ghostly souls.
The site had excellent feng shui. Yin energy flourished there, yet Resentment and baleful intent could scarcely accumulate. It gathered wealth and blessings, extending its bounty to later generations.
A hundred Daoists from the Truth-Seeking Abbey gathered, all dressed in mourning white. More than ten thousand commoners followed behind them, coming of their own accord, their hearts full of gratitude, to see the fallen heroes off on their final journey. Had these Immortal masters of the Truth-Seeking Abbey not risked their lives to slay demons and vanquish evil, the people would never have survived the war with no more than a fright, nor would they have enjoyed peaceful, harmonious days.
The procession reached the Heroes' Mound in a vast, silent column. On either side of the main gate stood verses inscribed in Xuanming's own hand:
The heroic spirit of heaven and earth still stands awe-inspiring through the ages.
Besides this poem, other writings adorned the walls, sent by the various powers beyond the mountain.
[The loyal bones of fallen heroes lie buried in green mountains; their noble spirit lives forever in the world.]
[Offering their heads, the martyrs sleep forever in a blessed land; shedding their hot blood, they leave descendants to honor their heroic souls for eternity.]
Once word spread that the Truth-Seeking Abbey would hold a funeral for its fallen