Brocade of Soaring Flames

[Intangible Cultural Heritage + Folklore + Adventure] The night in Tengchong dripped with sulfur-scented blood. The moment Yunan cut the red paper, fire burned out from the totem lines - the spiritual pillar of the Wa cliff cracked, human bones were turned out of the spring in Rehai, and the caravan's copper bells sounded like crying in the ruins. The jade pendant around her neck was so hot that it created a scar that connected with the totem on Yanhan's back, while the black shadow on the shadow puppet stage was rubbing her face inch by inch. "Flameweaver? It's just firewood." Half a charred caravan mask floated from the dark river, and the tie-dyed indigo had long been gnawed into a corpse-like color. The developer's drilling rig crushed the ridge, and laughter mixed with jade debris filled the eardrums: "Intangible cultural heritage? The power swap station should have been smashed long ago!" If you want to seal the earth's fire, you have to cut your own throat and sing "Driving Horse Tune"; if you want to save people, you have to carve the eyes of the Wa gods into your own face. When Yu Nan clenched the scissors, she heard the eclipse spirit chuckle in the lava: "Guess, what is the name of the sacrifice that was burned to death by the volcano god three hundred years ago..."