One by one, the yellow papers turned into black ashes as they were consumed by the flames, rising up swiftly on the hot air.
Li Huowang's expression was complex as he watched everything in front of him.
"Li Zhi, oh Li Zhi," he said, "I have burned the joss paper you wanted, and I hope you can receive it."
No sooner had he finished speaking than Li Huowang saw the black ashes whirl in front of him, as if responding to his own words.
At that moment, Li Huowang suddenly felt he could understand the thoughts of those superstitious people.
Compared to the extremely cruel and desperate notion that everything falls into oblivion after death, the idea of continuing the cycle of reincarnation as a ghost seemed like a beautiful fairy tale.
Throwing the last pile of yellow papers into the fire, Li Huowang stood up and patted the ash off his body.
"Let's go. We'll find an inn in town to rest a bit. Everyone is soaked through."
