A grave site.
The simple stone tombstone had become mottled due to the erosion of time, its inscriptions somewhat blurred, but one could still make out the words "Yang's Lingering Soul" on it.
The grave was overgrown with weeds.
Traces of past worship celebrations still faintly remained in front of the tomb.
Zhu Yurong stood in front of the tomb, her eyes filled with sorrow, and her face bearing a trace of sadness.
"After Brother Yang escaped back then, I took the risk to collect the bones of Uncle, Aunt, and Little Sister but dared not announce it. I could only bury them together in one place.
Over the years, I have come to pay my respects every year as a token of my feelings.
I know that doing this can't possibly make the deceased forgive me, but every time I come here to talk to them, I feel a little better in my heart."
There was, of course, nothing in the tomb.
It has been over two hundred years since the annihilation of the Yang Family.
