"Woooo~~"
The banana leaves are jade green, the spring rain drizzles down.
Seventy-two horns are blown, overpowering the cries of descendants, as the grandchild of Pan Dong carries the coffin through the rain. Hundred Legs and Withered Bone stand on either side, feeling something amiss, looking northward, glancing at the mountains, watching the rain.
In a corner, Meng Yi huddles like a curled-up hedgehog. Seeing the Great Diviner's movements, he guesses an old hand is being replaced by a new one, grabs a green calabash, takes a swig, and gives a self-deprecating chuckle.
Crack, crack, crack.
Might faces north, dining, swallowing the fish belly meat brought by Li Xianghan.
Gathering seats.
"Charge, charge, charge!"
"Hahaha! Whoever runs the fastest will be the East Water King! Woo woo woo!"
The floorboards thud with footsteps.
