The first red lantern lit up.
Then came the second and third, an entire row, an entire street.
The whole world!
Ruined walls became new, collapsed buildings rose again, and red gauze filled the sky, unfurling all along the Long Street.
Red lanterns hung beneath the eaves, paper cutouts reappeared on the window lattices, and even faint sounds of merriment drifted from afar.
It sounded as though countless people were laughing and playing as they waited for a fine show.
Yun Qing's gaze darkened slightly.
An illusion?
No, everything here blurred the line between truth and illusion. Or rather, to the caster, if he wanted this place to be real, it was real.
The Dao Principles of space and time, combined with the power of ghosts and gods, and something else he knew nothing about...
Clang-!
A bronze gong thundered, interrupting Yun Qing's thoughts.
Gongs and drums rang out on the Opera Stage, while strings and flutes began playing out of thin air.
Everyone looked up together. In the distance, the Opera Stage, previously submerged in darkness, had lit up as well.
Red lanterns hung high, and the curtain rose. Ghastly white moonlight poured down, shining squarely upon the center of the Opera Stage.
At some point, a graceful, slender figure had quietly taken his place there. A scarlet opera robe trailed along the floor, his long sleeves hanging down, his back turned to Yun Qing and the others.
Had this not been a ghost city, and had the figure before them not been a Ghost Lord of unfathomable cultivation, the Twelve Young Masters of the Yun Clan could have admired this breathtakingly beautiful scene from his silhouette alone.
Unfortunately, there were no ifs.
The ghostly figure ahead slowly raised his hand and flicked a flowing sleeve.
In an instant,