February 7.
Atop the altar, countless green banners swayed, dancing with the wind. The people of Ancient Chu revered shamans and spirits, deeply believing in matters of ghosts and gods. From the altar's vantage point, hundreds of shamans dressed in colorful garments could be seen, waving flags and singing fervently.
"Soul, return!"
Amidst the misty haze, the resounding voice seemed to pierce straight into the heavens, even the fierce winds paused at the sound.
Yin Weiyin stood upon the high platform. She had already changed into a plain white ceremonial robe, its sleeves billowing fiercely with the wind. She faced southward, gazing down at the hundreds of shamans as well as the tens of thousands of departed souls within Yama Hall. As the esteemed Princess, her eyes bore no dignity, only confusion.
It was as if she had no idea what was going to happen, as if she was entirely unprepared for what was about to come.
