At ten in the morning, at Taiping Bridge Cemetery.

This place was a hill of graves, with a clear stream circling its base. An old stone bridge spanned the stream, known as Taiping Bridge. Crossing the bridge led to the eternal resting place of the deceased, where green vegetation blanketed the hills, dotted with grey-white tombstones.

This was an old cemetery on the outskirts of Leave City, lacking in planning, disorganized, overgrown with wild grass, and permeated with an air of desolation and decay.

However, Gao Yang preferred this old cemetery over those neat and shiny new ones. He always felt that this was how a cemetery should look, a true world belonging to those who had passed.