The thick, black soup was poured into Heart's mouth. The keratin mask on his face seemed incorporeal as the black liquid streamed down his cheeks and dripped from his chin.
He drank about half of the thick soup from the small cauldron, then immediately prepared to chant the so-called Spell.
"On Jiangcheng's ancient road, a century old, is there a Xian?~
The Xian hears the people's plight, better to be beasts than men, yea~
Pulling guts for rope and loop, drinking blood from bottled wine, tsk~
Swallowing grain is hard, with no meat to eat, children stew like porridge, oh~
We beg the Xian, we beg the Xian~ We beg the Xian, we beg the Xian~
Does the Xian hear?~ Does the Xian hear?~
Save our flesh~ Save our bones~ Save us from hunger~ Save our mortal shells~
Does the Xian hear?~ Does the Xian hear?~"
Yang An, White Bird, and the Child all took two steps back, forming a circle around Heart and watching his every move.
He swayed his head back and forth.
