When Mo Hua and Situ Fang arrived at the mass grave, they saw the desolate ground scattered with many messy tomb mounds.
Some had steles with the names of the deceased inscribed.
Some had only a wooden plaque, weathered and decayed by the wind and sun.
Most graves had no markers, leaving it unknown who was buried there or who had buried them.
In the mass grave, there was a new tomb being buried.
As Mo Hua and Situ Fang approached, they saw three or four households gathered together, dressed in white, burning paper money, and weeping softly.
There was just one coffin.
Situ Fang inquired and learned that the bodies of these five men had been mangled beyond recognition, making it impossible to distinguish their limbs.
The Taoist Court had mixed them together and cremated them as one.
The families of the Mining Cultivators could only inter the five men together in one coffin.
Situ Fang said indignantly, "How could this be done?"
A woman, haggard and of middle age, clutching a thin child, spoke helplessly:
"Even if separated, we couldn't afford coffins. This single coffin was pooled together by four of our households."
"Isn't it five households?"
"One family—the wife has already remarried with her son and no one is there to bury him."
Situ Fang was at a loss for words.
The woman sighed and said:
"We don't blame her. A widow with an orphan, if she didn't remarry, she couldn't survive."
Situ Fang furrowed his brow, "Didn't the Lu Family compensate with Spirit Stones?"
"We got a hundred, but by the time it reached us, only twenty were left. These twenty Spirit Stones won't last long."
Situ Fang's expression turned cold, "Who skimmed off the top?"
The woman hemmed and hawed, unable to speak, her face filled with sorrowful sighs.
Situ Fang asked again, but the woman only shook her head, remaining silent.
Everyone fell somewhat silent.
The desolate gravesite once again grew deathly quiet, with only the weak sounds of weeping intermittently rising and falling.
After the graves were established, everyone offered incense.
The incense smoke curled upwards, the graves lonely.
The Mining Cultivators' family members had faces filled with sorrow.
Life as a Mining Cultivator was tough, and it was uncertain how long they could survive.
Who knows when an accident in the mine shaft might occur, adding another grave to this mass burial ground?
And ultimately, these graves would remain nameless and unidentified amid the desolate hills.
Unasked-about, unvisited for offerings.
Just a collection of unknown mounds of earth and rocks.
Mo Hua glanced around, feeling an inexplicable sense of desolation and melancholy.
After a moment, Mo Hua was taken aback.
He took another look at the families of the Cultivators and slowly furrowed his brows.
He remembered that when these families of the Mining Cultivators had made a fuss, demanding an explanation from the Taoist Court and arguing with Situ Fang, there were several strong men by their side.
But now, looking at these few households, there were only women and children, or the elderly.
There were a few young Cultivators, but they were also frail and thin.
Where had those strong men gone?
Mo Hua's gaze turned slight cold.