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The gloaming was heavy and deep.
To the southeast of Chen Clan Gully stood a colossal grave mound.
The ghosts in the village saw the corpses interred, their resentment dissipating into wisps of blue smoke, all but Old Chen's wronged spirit.
Zhou Yi found a piece of bluestone, his mana shaped it into a long stele, and with his finger acting as a pen, he inscribed upon it.
"Chen Clan Gully, the grave of three hundred and twenty-seven, in the eighteenth year of Emperor Hongchang's reign, on the twenty-seventh of the fifth month!"
His finger was like refined steel, penetrating three fen into the stone.
Old Chen knelt in thanks, "For such great kindness, the Chen clan has nothing with which to repay. We will pray for benefactor's blessings in the Netherworld, and if there is an afterlife, we are surely to be oxen and horses to repay the debt!"
"What do you intend to do now?"
Zhou Yi, holding the swaddled infant, protected Chen Ya'er with a barrier of mana.
