"I'm... I'm starting to float!" Yue Lin suddenly cried out.
Her paper-crafted skirt swayed gently, her entire body lifting from the ground like a kite caught in a rising breeze. Beside her, Zhang Li, Guan Hong, Yan Feng, and Yi Heng also began to drift upward, their forms light as feathers, always floating one step behind Song Miaozhu.
Sensing what was happening, Song Miaozhu raised her hand. At her command, every paper-crafted spirit tool she had created and stored in the Ghost Emporium surged forth, encircling her like stars gathering around a moon.
Little paper servants, armored soldiers, spirit-gathering fortune dolls, spiritual armor, Yang Paper Clothes, paper-crafted mounts and vehicles, soaring kites, paper mountains, trees, and rivers... Echo towers, shadow-binding chains, moonlight lanterns, paper vines blooming with flowers, and even a dream-crossing bridge—each one had long been dormant to conserve spiritual power. Yet now, bathed in the multicolored glow, they trembled with life, as if summoned by divine will.
"Come with me," Miaozhu said softly, "let's see what lies beyond that gate of light."
She released control of her body completely, allowing the unknown energy to lift her higher and higher toward the rainbow-hued gate suspended above the sky.
Wind whispered past her ears. Clouds flowed beneath her feet. As she rose, the gate loomed closer, brilliant and resplendent. Behind her, the paper-crafted beings followed, rising with reverence, as though accompanying a goddess on her journey to the heavens.
On the stone-paved streets of Yuanshan Town, the bustle of daily life came to a sudden halt.
An old man selling sugar sculptures froze mid-pour, molten syrup dripping unnoticed to the ground. In the teahouse by the window, guests leaned out, their teacups spilling as they strained to see the sky. Even the children playing tag in the alley grew silent, their small faces tilted upward, wide-eyed with wonder.
"So beautiful... It must be the most stunning sunset I've ever seen." An elderly painter, out with his students for sketch practice, seized his student's palette in a frenzy. Yet no matter how he mixed, he couldn't replicate those breathtaking hues.
His student blinked in confusion and adjusted his glasses. "What sunset, sir? You're joking, right? It's one fifteen in the afternoon. There's no way there's a sunset now."
On a nearby terrace, a couple visiting with their daughter squeezed together for a better view.
"Is that... a mirage?" the husband murmured.
His wife clutched his arm. "That gate up there... doesn't it look familiar? It's like... it's like..."
"Daddy, Mommy, what are you looking at?" Their daughter followed their gaze but saw nothing unusual.
Down at a street stall selling paper sculptures, a group of college students looked baffled.
"What are you all talking about? What sunset? What gate?"
The stall owner, a bearded man with graying hair, suddenly stood up, knocking over his bamboo stool.
"You don't see it? That glorious sky, that massive gate in the clouds?"
"Uncle, are you pranking us? There's nothing there." One of the students pulled out his phone and snapped a few photos. "Look, it's just blue sky and white clouds."
"You really don't see anything?" the stall owner looked around in disbelief. The young folks were clearly confused, but every older face was turned skyward, stunned.
Across the street, a tall student laughed. "Nope, nothing here. Ask my friends—we don't see anything either. Maybe this town's just big on ghost stories?"
"Nonsense!" the rice cake vendor woman stomped her foot. "Our town gave rise to a true immortal! Back then, she even bought spirit cakes from me!" She paused, squinting at the college kids. "How old are you all?"
"Eighteen," one answered. "Just graduated. We came here for a trip."
"Eighteen! There it is!" She slapped her thigh. "You were born after the spiritual era ended. You've never opened your Heavenly eye. That's why you can't see it! We can, but you can't! That glow—those seven-colored clouds—it's clearly spiritual light!"
Without another word, she abandoned her stall and ran in the direction of the gate.
In the teahouse upstairs, a group of elderly men gathered at the window. One of them pointed with a trembling finger.
"That rainbow gate looks just like the one in the spiritual platform! Only... this one's clear as day!"
"Do you think... spiritual qi is coming back?" the old apothecary's hands shook, almost dropping his pipe.
Across the street, the stone carving shop owner ran into the road, arms outstretched as he laughed. "It's happening! Our time is returning!"
Then, the crowd cried out.
"What is that?! It's flying!"
"Some kind of giant kite? There's so many!"
"Wait—look, that's a Fortune Doll!"
Chubby little spirit dolls tumbled across the sky, clutching paper bowls.
"That's Song Master's Rainbow Phoenix mount!" the sugar sculptor shouted, tossing aside his apron.
Everyone looked where he pointed. There it was—a radiant phoenix, wings spread wide, each feather shimmering with multicolored light. Its long tail swept elegant arcs through the clouds.
A group of tourists frowned.
"Who are those brawny women?" They pointed at the sky, where several fierce-looking paper-crafted warrior women hovered with weapons drawn, their forms flickering in and out of the clouds.
The rice cake vendor gasped. "Those are Song Master's spirit tools! I've seen some in her showcase window before, but so many of these are completely new!"
Back in the teahouse, an old man stroked his beard.
"So many. No wonder no one else could ever match her..."
His friend nodded, eyes misty. "Even if we never made it ourselves, just seeing her ascend in this lifetime... is enough."
A younger man with glasses, a self-proclaimed expert in Song Studies, suddenly gasped.
"Wait a second... aren't those her assistants? The ones moving the most naturally?"
He pointed at a few silhouettes in the sky—figures full of life and grace.
"They're not human... could those be paper-crafted too?"
For a moment, the entire street fell silent.
Then the old paper craftsman dropped to his knees.
"Impossible... She made paper dolls that move like real people? This is divine craftsmanship!"
He bowed toward the sky, yellow spirit-paper slipping from his hands like golden leaves.
The crowd erupted again, gasping and exclaiming. Children pointed at the sky, trying to count.
"One, two, three—!"
But there were too many. Too many to count.
In the corner, the college students looked at each other.
"I really don't see anything," one whispered.
But his friend, eyes wide, stared into the empty sky anyway.
"Look at the old folks... they're not faking it. We came here because of the spiritual era stories, right? Maybe some of it's true after all."