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It was once again the Qingming Festival in Cowheart Village.
Even though it was night, the streets bustled with people burning paper ingots and money. Most of the villagers were migrants without ancestral altars to honor their dead. They could only afford to draw circles on the ground, leaving an opening in the direction of their ancestors’ graves.
White smoke floated upwards. The moonlight cast a soft glow, making Cowheart Village look like a paradise.
A lone figure in red walked past the white smoke.
It was Li Huowang. He clutched a large amount of paper money and ingots as he passed through the village and made...
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