"The Dragon Scales and Dragon Ropes on everyone now are all sins made by miasma!"
He held the red brick above his head suddenly, his elderly arms trembling fiercely with effort, yet he carried a kind of determination to "break falsehood for truth": "Just now, the Dragon King appeared, telling me—keeping this false altar will only let miasma attach and harm everyone! I'll smash it, ask the Dragon King to appear, and grant us the true way to save us!"
The red brick smashed down with the sound of wind, a crisp "bang," instantly shattering the already weak paper, scattering the mud from the brick cracks onto the offerings.
Uncle Chen, still unsatisfied, kicked the red brick of the shrine violently again, the bricks wobbled loosely, the tin box fell to the ground, dust wrapping around the three shriveled apples.
He pointed at the mess on the ground and roared: "Broken paper! Rotten shrine! Our lives depend on the way granted by the true Dragon King, not this pile of junk!"
