Lin Shuyou's vertical pupils continuously scanned over them, then he showed an expression of sympathy.
In fact, behind each enchanting silhouette, if the illusion was dispelled, one could see a small jar placed at regular intervals along the white path, each jar crowned with a copper mirror.
Within the jars lay their respective ashes, and the copper mirrors reflected scenes from their past lives.
This ethereal atmosphere had surprisingly been crafted in such a manner.
The only solace was that there were no signs of resentment attached to them, indicating they had not died by foul play.
Fortunately, this was the case; otherwise, this Immortal Palace's path would have been haunted by ominous winds and ghostly wails.
Li Zhiyuan had a good memory; he remembered all the stone carvings he passed earlier and realized that the distinct attire of these dancing girls and songstresses could be matched to those engravings.
