"The village was very small, and most of the people were tenant farmers. But every night, someone would sing opera. People often knocked on our doors, and even wailed in mourning in the courtyard. Every time something strange like that happened, our brothers would inexplicably disappear or die."
"Later, we investigated and discovered that many villagers lived inside coffins. They warned us never to leave our coffins at night, and to offer sacrifices to the Blood God every day."
"We didn't believe any of it. We thought the villagers were spouting nonsense, so we didn't do as they said. Until... that night, the fifth hall master vanished completely. At the time, the hall master was supposedly coming here to investigate."
The middle-aged man's voice grew quieter and more fearful, as though he had recalled something utterly terrifying.
Fang Yang, however, tapped the table, as calm as drifting clouds in a light breeze.
Just then...
Whoosh!
Gusts of wind swept through the courtyard.
Before everyone's eyes, the desolate courtyard somehow transformed into the Pear Garden.
Pavilions and towers stood amid little bluestone steps.
Red lanterns hung along the corridors and beneath the eaves, each bearing the character for double happiness. They looked quite auspicious.
Even the crackling of firecrackers rang out.
Then, somehow, countless figures appeared in the empty Pear Garden.
They laughed and bantered, singing and responding to one another.
Voices bubbled like a boiling cauldron, and the atmosphere was entirely harmonious.
On the Pear Garden's stage, someone even stood with their back to the crowd, singing opera without pause.
The song was mournful.
Its utter desolation stood in stark contrast to the cheerful atmosphere, making their hair stand on end.
At this sudden sight, Ye Qinghong tightened his grip on his sword and instantly moved to his master's side.