They even followed the gust of gloomy wind and looked toward that small town.
Boundless anger began to surge through their minds, fists started to clench, some gritted their teeth and picked up things at their sides.
An Old Sorghum's smile appeared at the corner of his mouth, then he bowed again toward Xinshan, his voice was like a chant or a lament, carrying a desolate tone that ghostly gods dared not approach:
"Heaven is divine, Earth is divine."
"Heaven and Earth testify my diligent farming, yet not a single grain to offer my parents, I ask Heaven and Earth here, should I be the mouse or the man?"
"..."
Three consecutive rituals, three incense-burnings, for the people of this place, eyes opened thrice.
