Pi Yanlin stuffed the straw cushion a little further behind his neck. The bluestone slabs of the altar still held the chill of last night’s dew, which seeped through his coarse trousers into the backs of his knees.
He kept his eyes closed, his fingertips unconsciously stroking the bronze bamboo slip container at his waist—a gift from the System on his three-hundred-and-seventy-sixth day of check-ins, said to be capable of holding a century’s worth of karma.
"Ding—"
Chapter 202