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Beside the Yellow Springs Road, the crimson flowers of rebirth bloomed in fierce, radiant clusters.
Their petals swayed with ghostly allure, trailing off toward the edge of the sky.
A line of spirits stretched endlessly forward, faces blank, eyes vacant, heads bowed in silent procession. Compared to before, their numbers had swelled immeasurably.
Years had passed. Now, the Underworld had fully enshrouded the Ancestral Land. And from that land, no spirit would eve ...
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