The wailing of a suona rose from the deep shadows at the foot of the mountain, stretching straight up its slopes.

Down at the mountain’s foot, the Steward Hall, which was normally brightly lit, was now a dim, blurry shape. It gave off a strange, heavy feeling, as if it were steeped in ink.

Song Ciwan frowned slightly. With her Spiritual Sense, a sense of unease suddenly arose within her.

’But this is Wangjiang Mountain, the main gathering place for the Cultivators of Pinglan City. What kind of evil spirit would possibly dare to show itself here?’

Song Ciwan stood still, listening for a moment. Amidst the wail of the suona, she could faintly make out what sounded like the soft singing of a child’s voice.

The voice was high-pitched and thin, making it difficult to tell if it was a boy or a girl. Then it seemed as if there were many voices, boys and girls chanting eerily in unison: "For three long years, the heavens ran dry, a great drought, a great blight. The Dragon King would not send rain, saying a mortal offended a Divine Spirit..."

"It demanded offerings, so offerings I gave. At first, Incense and Candlelight, then the three sacrificial beasts..."

"The beasts were not enough; it wanted children from their parents..."

"Woe is me, oh, woe is me..."

"I must sing and I must dance, the sky stayed dark for days on end, but not a drop of rain would it send."

"The seven-foot men won’t enter the river, so they take me to the Sacrificial Altar instead..."

"Look, the river isn’t dry; look, the Celestial Lord won’t open His eyes. If a child enters the water, will the Celestial Lord truly make it rain?"

"Oh, woe is me... Father, Mother..."

"..."

On and on it went, the children’s voices high, thin, and clear. Suddenly, a new melody from an exceptionally mournful female voice drifted out.

The woman sang: "In the bloom of my sixteenth year, I went to a brothel. Every kiss I tasted was arsenic. You fed me a piece of candy, oh, how sweet it was..."

"I ate the candy and caught the sickness. My splendid life lasted but three years, then I was wrapped in a tattered mat..."

"The wind on the mountain is so cold, and the wild dogs come in packs..."

"Some hunt the wild dogs, and some hunt my corpse..."

"With his knife, that butcher never saw a difference between a Human and a dog..."

"Boil dog meat thrice, and who wouldn’t feel better than an Immortal?"

"Oh, woe is me... Immortal, open your door! Immortal, open your door..."

"..."

Verse after verse, the songs seemed to tell one fragmented story after another.

The stories came without pictures, yet it was as if images were flashing before her eyes.

Standing there on the mountainside, Song Ciwan found herself listening in a trance.

The entire Wangjiang Mountain was trapped in a bizarre state, at once exceedingly clamorous and profoundly silent.

The clamor came from the wailing suonas and the overlapping chants, but the silence was Wangjiang Mountain itself.

’There are so many Cultivators on this mountain. Never mind the ones in seclusion in their caves—what about the Steward Hall at the mountain’s base? Why is there no movement from there?’

And what about the summit, with all those Cultivators waiting beneath the four curtains of light—

Song Ciwan had once glimpsed that group through a Divine Spirit’s remote vision. There were over a hundred of them!

Not a single one of them was weak. While not all were at Late-stage Qi Refining or had achieved Innate Second Transformation Opening Over One Hundred Acupoints, such powerful Cultivators made up at least a third of the group.

There was no sign of movement from them either.

Farther out, the buildings of Pinglan City sprawled out from the base of the mountain.

From her vantage point halfway up the mountain, Song Ciwan could clearly see the sprawling streets below, their crisscrossing lights like pieces on a game board. Beneath the lamps, pedestrians still bustled about, the prosperity of the Mortal World seemingly untouched.

It was as if Song Ciwan herself had been trapped in some kind of auditory and visual Illusion Realm.

’So, was I just hearing things?’

The suona and the singing at the foot of the mountain continued. Men’s voices, women’s voices, children’s voices... all sorts of sounds blended together, occasionally punctuated by bizarre laughter. "Hee hee hee? Hehehe..."

"Hahaha, hohoho..."

"I’m coming! Immortal, oh Immortal, I’m coming for you..."

The laughter and singing grew clearer. Then, from the deep shadows and ink-black darkness at the mountain’s foot, an old-fashioned Red Lantern began to slowly rise!

The lantern flew higher and higher, its form growing ever more distinct. After a few moments, the Red Lantern had traveled all the way from the base of the mountain to hover right in front of Song Ciwan!

Song Ciwan did not move. She felt a profound pressure closing in from all sides.

The pale white moonlight, the dim mountain shadows, the deep red lantern...

The lantern hung there, solitary and seemingly alone. There was nothing around it.

And yet, Song Ciwan could clearly sense that the lantern was surrounded by countless beings—beings innumerable and indescribable.

They had no shadows, no forms. Even with her Spiritual Sense and her unique perspective from residing in the Otherworld, she couldn’t see them!

All she could feel was a power like a tidal wave, originating from the foot of Wangjiang Mountain—or perhaps from the entirety of Pinglan City—surging toward her from all sides, airtight and inescapable.

Song Ciwan silently formed the Xuanwu Mountain Observation Seal. She stood her ground, utterly immovable.

She visualized herself as a reef on the shore, a great mountain by the waves, an ancient Black Tortoise.

’The enemy moves, but I do not. The winds rage, but I remain calm!’

Then, at a certain moment, that strange, tsunami-like power came rolling and roaring, surging past her sides, past her surroundings, and even through the very spot she occupied.

The impact was truly beyond description—a devastating, all-encompassing force that blotted out the sky.

In that instant, time itself seemed to freeze. A single moment stretched into an eternity...

But eventually, it passed. And through it all, Song Ciwan had truly remained as immovable as a mountain.

The surging tide had not harmed her. It was because they did not exist in the same world to begin with!

Song Ciwan let out a sharp breath of relief, only then realizing her back was drenched in a cold sweat.

She immediately turned, her eyes following the Red Lantern.

The lantern continued to rise, and the ethereal singing followed it, chanting eerily from all around: "The master gave me three coins and told me to sell my land. In my field, I dug up a nugget of gold. My father guarded the field, till a swing of a hoe took off his head..."

"In the third month, taxes are due; in the fourth, canals to be dug. In the fifth, grain is levied; in the sixth, soldiers are conscripted..."

"Five strong men taken away, leaving but a single child behind. Woe, oh woe..."

"Oh, Immortals, Heaven needs its own soldiers. Why must you take a simple boy like me...?"

...

When the children finished singing, the women began. When the women finished, the men began. Voices of men and women, young and old, high and low, mixed with sounds of weeping and laughter.

Gradually, the Red Lantern neared the summit of the mountain.

On Wangjiang Mountain, the shadows of the trees swayed as a fierce wind suddenly kicked up.

A dark cloud suddenly appeared in the sky, shrouding the brilliant moon in thick vapor.

From the mountaintop, an ancient, weary sigh echoed, "The fourteenth day of the first month. The Shangyuan Festival is upon us. The gates of the Netherworld swing open... it is the Night Parade of Hundred Demons!"

The deep, resonant voice seemed to create an invisible shockwave that instantly blasted out in all directions.

Shrill wails immediately erupted across the sky: "AH!"

"AHHH!"

"The Mortal World... this world is already a hell. Why not let it return to its true nature?"

"Immortals! May you all fall from your mountains!"

"Hahaha! Hee hee hee..."