He held the red pen, pondered for a moment, then with a sweeping stroke, two characters, bold and elegantly flowing, appeared above the gate.
Simple and brutal, yet perfectly fitting for the occasion.
Ghost Gate.
The two blood-streaked characters sizzled, burning themselves onto the gate header.
The characters, though distinctive as always, contained an odd awkwardness with a slight touch of aloofness, yet at this moment, they seemed to possess an inexplicable sense of perfect harmony.
Yu Ziqing stepped back a bit, satisfied with the words he inscribed.
It's not that he was untalented, but he just had not found the right place before.
If it were Yang, even if pushed to the brink, he couldn't have written such fitting characters.
As the two characters were completed, a trace of blood spread from the characters, following crack-like patterns, filling all the crevices.
Then those cracks slowly began to vanish.
