Song Ciwan stood her ground and looked around.
A slate-gray sky hung like a massive dome, blanketing the mountain village before her.
Amidst the sprawling feast, the villagers who had been staring fixedly at Song Ciwan had, at some unknown point, withdrawn their horrifying gazes.
They were no longer watching Song Ciwan. Instead, they refocused their attention on the refugees beside them, continuing to enthusiastically urge them to eat.
"Come, come, eat up. Don't worry about there not being enough food. We have plenty! There's more after this is gone…"
Their enthusiastic voices were laced with laughter, even a sort of doting affection!
The feast grew lively once more, but the harmonious atmosphere was permeated with an unspeakable eeriness.
Some of the faster-eating refugees were no longer content with just using chopsticks. They threw them aside, using both hands, and even buried their heads in the bowls.
