Qi Rong sits atop his throne, the cavern around you is dim and. old; illuminated only by the fires surrounding him and the fires over his workers heads. The minor ghosts scramble back and forth, while Qi Rong absentmindedly fiddles with a finger on the hand he is peeling the meat from.

His eyes flicker up, landing straight on you, and he grins, “A visitor? HAHAHA! Bad place to get lost.” he sneers, “Don’t you know who I am? You should be worshipping this ancestor.”