The bright bonfire leaped into Fang Hong's vision.
Warm light spread across the expansive open field, and the roaring sound of the flames had long been drowned out by people's conversations, interspersed with the occasional shrill scream and laughter of children, but at this moment, nobody bothered to admonish them.
Fireflies danced over the dark surface of the lake, and at this moment, a witch doctor dressed in a yellow robe stepped down from the distant platform. The crowd quieted a bit, making way for him as the old man slowly approached the bonfire. In the firelight, mysterious patterns were painted on the witch doctor's bronze face, one hand holding a staff adorned with bone fragments, the other holding an ancient slate.
Fang Hong had learned the general procedures of the celebration from the clergy at Marlan Temple.
