Half an incense stick's time is shorter than imagined.
After Zhang Youhong personally handled those five ghost drivers from the Republic of China period, her solid body began to gradually turn ethereal, like smoke ready to scatter in the wind.
"My time has come, I must leave. The rest is up to you."
Her face still wore a smile, then she turned and gracefully walked toward the misty distance.
Yang Jian said nothing, just watched Zhang Youhong leave.
Soon, her figure receded further and became fainter, finally unable to maintain form, dispersing directly into wisps of blue smoke.
A small piece of burning incense was left where Zhang Youhong disappeared.
"Gone rather carefree." After watching her leave, Yang Jian looked toward Sister Hong's position.
Sister Hong's body had returned to normal, but she stood still with eyes closed as if in deep sleep. Gradually, her consciousness awoke as Zhang Youhong disappeared.
