Jing Sang was always a 'Doubting Thomas' of his kind. Rumors will be rumors and will have no credibility, even if it's their informant who declared that there were no survivors from the prisoners who banished from the place, he won't believe it all unless he's in front of their corpses; and he will literally point it out the appearance base on their own physique.
The base was like a funeral home up this moment. More than a day had passed, and no one wanted to open the business. Each had on their gloomy mood to consider.
The shop that was usually bustling was filled with lamentations and sorrows. Every member brought over their best quality of clothes to hang on the wall. They even put the table on the sideline to give a spacious ground in the middle.
They set the stage in a fervent decoration of total white curtains; in the middle setting is a mahogany table with candle-lit incense and a vivid charcoal portrait of the three-person.
