A master of comedy!

Chapter 1 Shadow Play
Summer of the thirteenth year of Yuanshou, at midnight.

It was past midnight, and all was quiet, but the Yangcheng opera troupe was dimly lit, and the faint sounds of singing and practicing could be heard.

The area under the stage was empty, but the backstage area of ​​the opera troupe was full of people.

Martial arts male roles, Qingyi (female roles), Huadan (female roles), Laosheng (old male roles), Sanhualian (painted face roles)...

It was already late at night, and the audience was empty, but they had all put on their face paint and costumes, practicing their singing as if they were preparing to go on stage, but there was a hint of nervousness in their eyes that they could not hide.

"Master, according to the rules of this troupe, it's time to start the performance. Shouldn't we begin?"

After waiting for a long time, a martial arts actor couldn't help but ask. He was the bravest in the troupe, but the troupe at midnight seemed particularly gloomy and cold, causing his voice to tremble slightly.

"Wait."

The leader of the troupe uttered only one word, but it was very resolute.

He was a middle-aged man, the only one not wearing a costume at the moment. He was probably in his forties or fifties, wearing a gray long gown, with a resolute face and a calm demeanor.

"We've been waiting for an hour, Master. I'm afraid the expert you invited isn't coming."

"Or should we break the platform again tomorrow?"

A woman dressed as a female ghost spoke softly, her eyes filled with resentment and fear.

Of all the people in the competition, she was the one who was chosen to play the ghost.

"If the opera troupe has to stop for even one more day, the loss will not only be money, but also reputation."

The troupe leader shook his head and refused, saying, "We've already shut down the stage for over a month. If this continues, the troupe won't be far from disbanding."

Upon hearing this, everyone lowered their heads and remained silent.

More than fearing ghosts, they feared poverty. If the opera troupe didn't open for business, their pockets would become emptier day by day, and they would soon be living off their savings.

After a long silence, a weak voice finally broke the silence.

"Master, we treated Sister Jin very well when she was alive, she shouldn't—"

"shut up!"

Upon hearing that name, the usually composed troupe leader's expression instantly changed. He glared fiercely at the man in green, while simultaneously clenching the yellow talisman hidden in his palm.

Not only him, but everyone else also had different expressions, and they quickly looked around, unable to hide their nervousness.

Just then, Wu Sheng was startled and shouted, "A ghost! There's a ghost!"

Everyone looked over immediately, and couldn't help but feel a chill run down their spines.

In the dim light below the stage, a figure was slowly walking towards them.

What's chilling is that, despite the eerily quiet environment—so quiet you could hear a pin drop—the group couldn't hear a single footstep.

It landed silently, like a ghost.

Just as they thought it was haunted and were preparing to flee, a clear voice rang out in the darkness.

"Sorry, we encountered bandits on the way, which delayed us a bit."

It was a man's voice.

He slowly emerged from the shadows, the candlelight illuminating his clear, bright eyes. His face was handsome, and his long hair was casually tied with a blue rope. Although he was not wearing a hat, it did not appear disheveled.

The man, dressed in a blue belt and black robe, stood tall and elegant, carrying a large box about three feet long in his hand.

The first thing everyone looked at was the man's feet, and they breathed a sigh of relief when they saw his shadow.

According to folklore, ghosts have no shadows, so the other party must be a person.

They had realized that this very young-looking man must be the expert that the troupe leader had invited.

However, the troupe leader frowned and asked in confusion, "Who are you?"

The young man calmly put down the box, clasped his hands in a fist and said, "My name is Zhou Sheng, courtesy name Danshan. My master has retired from performing shamanic operas and sent me to help him after receiving a letter from Master Wu."

Upon hearing this, Master Wu immediately bowed, his voice extremely respectful and warm.

"So you're Master Yu's esteemed disciple. 'The road to Danshan is lined with tung blossoms, and the young phoenix's voice is clearer than the old one's. Danshan, what a fine name!'"

"You're not late! Please come backstage. Xiaoshan, hurry up and help our distinguished guest with his luggage!"

The strongest martial arts performer immediately stepped forward, smiling as he reached for the large box at Zhou Sheng's feet.

However, he couldn't lift it with one hand; he had to use both hands to barely lift it.

Zhou Sheng did not refuse. He went straight backstage and headed directly to the statue of the troupe's patron saint, where he respectfully offered incense. According to the rules of the opera world, all performers must first pay homage to the patron saint upon arriving backstage.

"Brother Zhou... are you also an opera singer?"

The martial arts student, Xiaoshan, struggled to carry the large box in, placing it on the ground with a dull thud.

He was slightly out of breath, and his gaze towards Zhou Sheng was very strange.

This person was carrying such a heavy box, yet made no sound at all.

"Of course, even shamanic plays are still plays, and this is my theater box."

Zhou Sheng opened the opera box in front of everyone.

Generally speaking, opera singers have opera trunks, and often more than one; they usually have four: a costume trunk, a helmet trunk, a miscellaneous trunk, and a carrying trunk.

The costume box is mainly used to store costumes and accessories; the helmet box is used to store helmets, wigs and other head ornaments, as well as various beards; the miscellaneous box contains makeup boxes and head ornaments for female roles; and the handle box contains various weapons and props used by characters on stage.

However, Zhou Sheng's opera box was completely different.

A large box was divided into four sections by wooden boards, each containing many props, mostly for the purposes of cleaning and purifying.

The costumes were made of the finest brocade and silk, and the wigs were jet black and glossy, even smoother and softer than real hair.

But what attracted Koyama the most was the weapons inside.

Knives, swords, golden whips, and serpent spears.

Especially the spear, which was laid out in three sections, reflected a cold and hard metallic luster under the candlelight.

This is actually the real thing, not the prop they usually use in their operas!

Zhou Sheng took the three-section spear in his hand, turned his palm, and with two crisp metallic clanging sounds, a ten-foot-long spear appeared before everyone's eyes.

It was about eighteen feet long, dark and black like a black dragon turning over, cold and menacing like a black snake spitting its tongue, with two extremely deep blood grooves on the tip of the spear, with a solidified dark red color.

Xiao Shan seemed to smell the stench of blood. He stared intently at the spear and suddenly remembered what Zhou Sheng had said when he first arrived.

"Sorry, we encountered bandits on the way, which delayed us a bit."

Zhou Sheng did not mention the fate of those bandits, but the answer seemed self-evident: the blood on the spear, like the weapons themselves, was real.

"Danshan, are you going to sing 'Marquis Huan' tonight?"

Master Wu looked at the spear and couldn't help but ask a question, but he quickly shook his head.

Because Zhou Sheng had already sat down to paint facial masks.

He picked up a cinnabar brush and began sketching in front of the mirror. First, he laid down the base with thick ink, then used clear cinnabar to cut out the crescent moon between his eyebrows.

When the crescent moon appears, you know it's Bao Gong.

"Tonight we'll sing 'Bao Gong'."

Zhou Sheng's voice remained calm and clear, seemingly lacking the powerful and resonant quality of his portrayal of the painted-face Bao Gong.

Xiao Shan frowned, wanting to remind someone of something, but was stopped by the class teacher's wink.

In Bao Gong operas, the crescent moon between the eyebrows should not be drawn straight, but slightly slanted. This is a rule to prevent the vengeful ghosts of the wronged from mistaking him for the real Bao Gong and coming to seek justice.

But the crescent moon that Zhou Sheng drew was perfectly straight and upright, without the slightest deviation.

Suddenly, the words "scheming" popped into Xiaoshan's mind.

Could it be that these so-called ghost plays are actually performed for ghosts?

So he deliberately drew the crescent moon straight, just to... summon the ghost to seek justice?
Thinking of this, he suddenly shivered, his heart raced, and a sense of foreboding arose within him.

Tonight's performance on this dilapidated stage is probably going to be difficult.

……

　Brothers, I'm back!

　　In the past six months, besides work and rest, I have also been actively preparing for my new book and collecting information.

　　The Yingge dance, the parade of gods, the drunken Guan Gong, and even the online video of the white crane boy killing the ghost mother all gave me a lot of inspiration. Combined with my expertise in traditional supernatural tales and mythological elements, this book came to be.

　　I hope you enjoy this story.

　　The update times remain the same: noon and 6 PM.

　　It's not easy being a newbie, please support this cute little newbie! Sending love!
　　
　
(End of this chapter)