The black and red stripes are the rough outline of a spiritual lamp hewn out of hardwood.

The cloudy wax oil burned quietly, and the rough wick exploded from time to time with a spark like cotton wool.

Requiem, soul song, the percussion of the pulp wooden fish, swinging in the heavy air.

Han Bo looked around, his expression numb and his movements stiff.

The air was filled with a strong smell of blood and corpses, which were like a sticky shell, wrapped tightly around the temple.

Every time Han Bo breathed, his stomach and intestines had to shrink uncomfortably.

"Another one."

Han Bo walked to the widened entrance of the temple, where a large number of corpses were piled up on the spacious bluestone floor.

They were incomplete, and many of the corpses showed sticky entrails.

They were heavy, obviously not much weight, but every time he lifted these corpses, Han Bo felt heavy.

The wind and snow crept through the cracks in his clothes, and his fingers and toes were no longer felt.

The stiff corpses were dragged out of the snow, like children's graffiti, depicting pictures of death.

Walking through the front hall and walking through the monks' residence, white and red are intertwined everywhere.

A thin old man was picking and picking on the ground, looking tired, his skin crumpled and piled up like scalded chicken skin.

"Click."

It may be that the dragging posture is wrong, and a finger is stuck in the ground slit.

Han Bo didn't seem to see it, and still dragged the corpse forward numbly.

The old man glanced at it indifferently, reached out and picked up the severed finger, and threw it into the basket behind him like picking up cow dung.

Neither of them spoke, not even their eyes met.

It was as if they were living in two worlds, Han Bo hauled the corpses, while the old man picked up the fallen corpse parts and cleaned up the blood stains that could not be wiped clean.

Why is this happening?

The rebels besieged the city for nearly half a year, and the people in the city could not get out, and those outside the city could not enter.

Food is scarce and people's hearts are unstable.

The great, self-proclaimed Xunyang Linghou Shi Jingtang.

Before the rebels besieged the city, they abandoned their responsibilities and missions. With the looted people's fat and people's ointment, as well as those beautiful wives and concubines, they ran away cleanly.

If it weren't for General Xunchuan Shi, who had retired and returned to his hometown, he stepped forward and contacted the spiritual cultivators on Lufeng Mountain outside the city to collect the displaced people and organize guards together, thinking that this fortified city would have been in ruins.

Passing through the monk's house, there is a spacious and flat backyard at the back.

It was supposed to be a pure place to recite fasting and worship the Buddha and get great freedom.

But at this time, in the spacious backyard here, several towering towers were piled up.

The severed limbs are like ornaments adorning the tower, and the base is the white fingers and eyes, or the flesh and blood of someone's scalp.

In addition to Han Bo, there are many newly recruited recruits who are dealing with corpses.

They were equally numb and stiff.

Laboriously dragging the corpse up the wreckage tower, Han Bo glanced at the spirit lamp floating at the top of the wreckage tower.

It exudes a slight ripple that connects the remains of the temple.

Comforting the deceased is a solemn and solemn thing.

But there were too many dead, and the ritual changed from the original solemnity to the simple and fast.

Three months before the rebel siege, the people resisted stubbornly under the leadership of General Kawaishi.

Although many people died in the high-intensity offensive and defensive battles again and again, everyone was always eager for the arrival of imperial reinforcements.

Three months later, the elderly and frail children began to die in large numbers, and a food crisis appeared.

In another month, the young man also began to die, and the situation became more and more bitter.

In another month, even those big houses began to cry miserably.

But even so, God seems unwilling to let go of these poor people.

The arrival of a blizzard has completely pushed the already turbulent situation to the precipice.

Chaos, mutinies, collapses, and even the cruelty of the Meat Market in the Night.

What's even more desperate is that the spirit refiners who could have guarded everyone and were high up in the sky died the fastest and the earliest.

You must know that they are spirit refiners who can go months without food or drink, even if there is a crisis of food shortage, even if there is a terrible plague and chaos, they should live to the end.

But the reality is that they died first.

Because the spirit alchemists in the rebel army had already prepared a great gift for these colleagues in the city-Soul Leaving Gu.

They were no threat to ordinary people, but rather those soul refiners with powerful souls died at their hands without a sound.

This once caused confusion and fear among the spirit refiners, and in the end, they found that the person who left the soul Gu was not a master, but an old blind man who made a living by singing.

When the old blind man proved the existence of the Soul Leaving Gu in a simple way, Han Bo, who had lived with the old blind man for a long time, was shocked and felt incredulous for a while.

Thanks to the old blind man, there is no longer a loss for the spirit alchemists in the city.

Thanks to the Soul Separation Gu Poison, if it weren't for the fact that it could pollute the soul, these ordinary people would not be eligible to enter the Requiem Array after death and enjoy the treatment of soul rest.

While thinking wildly, Han Bo walked forward.

When he came back to his senses, he found that he had walked back to the Remains Tower.

Why walk back? Han Bo doesn't know, maybe it's the only bit of light left in his heart?

When he entered the Requiem Array just now, Han Bo found that the corpse he was dragging was not completely dead.

It was the corpse of a young girl, curled up tightly and clumping herself into a sphere.

Those little pale hands were clenched in front of their chests, and they couldn't be broken, and they felt like a lump of ice.

The faint soul fluctuation, the almost disappearing breath, made it impossible for Han Bo to leave her behind.

Why meddle? Wouldn't it be easier to die?

Han Bo kept questioning himself, but his steps became more and more firm, and he walked into the requiem array again.

.....

The goose feathers and snow were drifting, and the faint fluctuations of the spirit lanterns continued to connect several skeletal towers.

The spirit refiners looked tired, their tired bodies like rusty screws.

The garrisons that maintained order in the field and cleared the nets also disappeared, and perhaps like the spirit refiners, they lost the last bit of patience.

These garrisons are not recruits like Han Bo, they are the personal guards of General Chuanshi, and they can be regarded as the mainstay of the entire Xunyang City.

Without the garrison to stop it, it is also convenient for Hanbo.

He hurried to the corner of the Requiem, hoping to save the life that had almost lost his breath one last time.

I have seen the girl who is randomly stacked in the corpse mountain from afar, Han Bo is faster, and his numb and stiff facial features also show a trace of anxiety.

"Whew~!"

A soul-scorching burning sound suddenly sounded, the light of the spiritual lamp bloomed, and it was completely ignited.

The bursts were blurred, and the requiem sung to the soul sounded at some point.

Heaven and earth are quiet, and the requiem ceremony has begun!