At the same time.
Capital.
Clouds shrouded the sky.
A drizzling rain fell from above.
It was as if someone was crying.
Between towering buildings, the howling wind swept up the rain, which sounded almost like laughter.
One of the roads in the capital was blocked off by armed police, extending several kilometers.
Along the blocked road, thousands of people, holding dark umbrellas, stood solemn and silent.
A convoy of black armored vehicles passed slowly.
At the center of the convoy, one armored vehicle bore a dark coffin on its roof, surrounded as if by a halo of stars.
The convoy moved very slowly.
Behind the convoy, a long line of people, young and old alike, dressed in the same white ancient robes, uncovered by umbrellas, walking silently in the rain, performed some kind of ritual.
Zhu Tianzong had an expressionless face, his eyes hollow, walking at the front of the funeral procession, followed closely by 108 members of the Zhu Family.
Behind him, he carried a sword.