The flames on the lanterns were slowly being doused, and the originally lofty and transcendent Immortals descending on dragons had become a pitch-black mass, unrecognizable from their former appearance. The burned silk and paper turned dark and ashen, falling like black butterflies fluttering their wings.
The air was filled with an unpleasant odor.
Because the startled common folk were frantically pouring water, even Wang Anfeng's body was wetted by more than half, his black hair damp and drooping over his body, and flecks of black ash from the burned lanterns sticking to his clothes.
His head hung low.
Not far away, a woman dressed in a sky-blue brocade dress hastily ran over. When she saw Wang Anfeng protecting the children behind him, overwhelmed by fear and the relief of being saved, she let out a sharp scream that didn't match her figure or attire, stumbling over with tears in her voice.
