A fortnight later, with the first ray of the rising sun on the dawn of the summer solstice, what remained of surviving immortal spirits arrived en masse at the site where Hu Lijing's execution was to be held, their arrival accompanied by the warm sun falling on their bodies and heralded by the tumultuous cacophony of their fearful and subdued chatters.
The crowd gathered together, drawn to each other by the shared experience of having survived a calamity of the highest calibre.
Hushed chatters, idle gossip and tentative words went around, one voice saying something and another something else. Some chimed in, some interjected.
But there was one common subject of their harsh words, the nine-tailed fox who was to be executed today.
"—I heard he's a ferocious looking monster, fiery and destructive like the fire he was born from—"
