Clang-
Clang-
The specters below the stage, draped in Red Gauze and wearing Puppet masks, all raised their heads at once.
"Crows cry without cease; dogs' weeping is heard now and then."
Gui Lingyue slowly turned at the center of the Opera Stage, his red water sleeves veiling half his face.
"People wear ghosts' pallor; ghosts steal people's souls-"
The melody was mournful and hauntingly beautiful, yet his singing seized the heart, more exquisite than that of many celebrated performers who had spent their entire lives onstage.
Yun Qing's consciousness gradually scattered. Before he sank into a stupor, only one absurd thought remained in his heart.
What had I ever done to deserve a great opera ghost, apparently at the level of a Dao Lord, putting on a solo performance just for me?
What had I ever done?! I really could have done without this sort of luck.
Couldn't you give it to Brother Huang instead?
Doesn't Brother Huang love listening to songs more than anything? And that fellow has always cared about pomp and spectacle. Surely he'd be delighted with a private performance of this caliber.
As for a mere little Immortal Lord like me, I really don't want it, Yun Qing thought with utter sincerity at the last.
Still, I have to admit, it really does sound lovely.
The next instant, his vision went black, and his consciousness sank completely.
Only half a ghostly face remained, quietly watching him from behind the water sleeves.
"Whew."
The stench of blood hit him full in the face, and Yun Qing's eyes snapped open.
Mutilated bodies were piled everywhere, and bloody hues flooded the earth. He was already standing on an ancient battlefield of mountains of corpses and seas of blood.
There was no sun in this world. The sky