The memories that burrowed into everyone's mind were fragments of memories of the dead head.
His memory is naturally filtered by an old history, turbid and unclear, like yellowed pages of a book, with metaphorical and suggestive effects.
It was just a priest, who entered the mountain path with his followers, who were covered in strange paints. They stood on the altar, danced, and sang incomprehensible bird language.
At the end of the ancient ritual, he took out a sharp dagger, stabbed it into his neck, and twisted it hard to separate his head from his body.
This is the ancient memory brought by the dead head.
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