Ren Qing pushed his way through the crowd, quickly squeezing to the front of the line.
They were now on the northern side of Crane Mountain. Surrounded by peaks, the area was shrouded from the sun, so there was little vegetation.
A giant Mountain God Statue had been carved into the face of the mountain, a feat that must have taken decades, if not centuries, to complete.
A frail old man was helped out from the crowd. He walked to the edge of the ridge and tapped the dragon-headed staff in his hand.
The once-noisy scene instantly fell silent.
Ren Qing narrowed his eyes.
'This man couldn't be the Preacher, could he? I'll keep an eye on him for now.'
The old man coughed for a moment before slowly speaking. "This year has brought many unexpected disasters, so we have decided to hold a sacrifice to the gods in three days' time."
"Someone, dust the Mountain God."
