It all started with one person becoming a shaman, but the Stand user...

After his repeated confirmation, he discovered that this was indeed a wild Taoist priest who had never appeared in the original work.

Even though it spends most of its time asleep, it is quite remarkable that it can preserve a part of its soul for so long and maintain its sanity after waking up.

Every time Qinghe Miao heard this story, he couldn't help but sigh at the hidden talents in the world.

"We've had a great time tonight, it's time to head back."

The boy leaped off the table and bowed to the stage in farewell.

Seemingly finally satisfied, they were ready to leave.

The sound of footsteps was particularly clear in the empty old house, as the boy walked step by step outside.

When the whole old house fell silent again.

The figure on the stage remained silent for a long while. Two dark, flowing sleeves silently merged into the darkness, spreading towards him like a shadow, getting closer and closer.

Spicy Red Chili Pepper

As the saying goes, immortals value life, while ghosts value death; immortals are always blessed, while ghosts are always cursed.

A clear, melodious recitation suddenly rang out, and the boy abruptly stopped.

Almost simultaneously, a golden, hazy figure appeared behind him.

It resembles a thick-headed dragon with a long beak and sharp tail, and its body radiates electric light, illuminating the surroundings.

Fine arcs of electricity erupted around him, and blue sparks danced and crackled in his hair.

When he turned around, lightning flickered in his eyes, a thunderous glint within them, the mist concealing the thunder, casting an unpredictable glow throughout the room. He earnestly advised:

"Master, don't do anything foolish."

The two flowing sleeves vanished instantly, shrinking back into the depths of the stage as if they had encountered a natural enemy, disappearing into the deeper darkness.

The dark figure on the stage remained silent, disappearing into the gloom like an ink droplet falling into water, leaving no trace.

Qinghe Miao didn't say much, but simply waved his arm and put the Wenwang Drum he had been holding into the system's secondary weapon slot.

After demonstrating his skills once more to intimidate others, he didn't linger and turned to walk outside again.

His steps appeared calm and steady, as if everything was under control, but in reality, his palms were already covered in fine beads of sweat.

His mind remained focused, locked on the stand-in figure named [Sub-Void Miasma] in the system log, ready to run away at any moment if anything went wrong.

Fortunately, until he completely stepped out of the auditorium threshold, the deep darkness behind him remained as silent as an abyss, without any further ripples.

He finally breathed a sigh of relief in the night breeze, and his tense shoulders and back relaxed slightly.

Looking back, the old hall that once hosted the bustling gatherings of a village now appears only as a silent outline under the dim starlight.

Qinghe Miao rubbed the long-abandoned stone millstone at the doorway with the tip of his shoe. The edges of the millstone were smoothed by the years. He sighed softly.

"Reputation is tiring."

After saying that, he turned and disappeared into the deeper night, his figure gradually swallowed by the darkness.

But the darkness did not last long.

A few dim lights began to appear along the village road not far ahead.

Even after many years, many villages still don't have streetlights at all, let alone now.

At this moment, the lights that are on are the simple door lamps hanging in front of the villagers' doors.

Most still use old-fashioned incandescent light bulbs, which emit a warm, hazy yellow light. Two wires are pulled out from the bulbs and casually strung into the room, trembling slightly in the night breeze.

Qinghe Miao continued along the dirt road.

The nights in the countryside are exceptionally peaceful, with starlight scattered like shattered silver, and the occasional bark of a dog or crowing of a rooster heard from near and far.

The dirt road underfoot was uneven and full of potholes, one step deep and you'd sink in; and every now and then, unidentified flying insects would swarm you.

Qinghe Miao had already retracted the [Spicy Red Chili Pepper] into his body.

He had tried using the dummy as an electric mosquito swatter, and it did have some effect.

The problem is that one of the working principles of electric mosquito swatters is to use the phototaxis of insects to attract mosquitoes.

On a summer night in the fields, the crackling, dazzling arcs of electricity only draw insects from all directions to gather with increasing excitement.

What rural areas have no shortage of is precisely all kinds of moths and gnats.

Just imagining himself surrounded by swarms of insects, surrounded by flashes of lightning and fluttering wings, made Qinghe Miao shudder.

Therefore, they would rather endure sporadic insect disturbances like ordinary people than release their stand-ins at this time.

Moreover, electricity bills are quite a heavy burden these days.

It's not easy for his stand-in to squeeze out any extra power, so he should use it sparingly.

"Hey, isn't this the eldest son of the North House family? Where have you been running around in the middle of the night?"

A rough, hearty voice suddenly rang out from the street corner, breaking the tranquility of the night.

It turned out to be several old men from the village, wearing faded vests and shorts, gathered under the door lamp of a house around the corner, playing cards around a low stool.

The warm yellow light outlined the deep wrinkles on their dark faces.

"Good evening, Fifth Master."

Qinghe Miao's face immediately broke into a bright smile, and he responded loudly:

"The village chief said that we might need to use the old village hall again in the future, so he asked me to go and take a look."

"Hey, good lad."

The old man, addressed as Fifth Grandfather, sat cross-legged on a large rock, smoking a pipe and squinting at him.

"As expected of our village's 'Qing the Half-Immortal,' did you figure out anything?"

"Nothing's wrong, don't worry."

Qinghe Miao smiled and waved his hand:

"Once the village chief, Uncle Wu, has made all the arrangements, we will naturally hear from him."

Without pausing, he nodded to the old men and continued to disappear into the sparsely lit alley ahead.

The faint sounds of playing cards hitting the bench and the murmur of old people chatting could be heard behind me.

"You're worrying about things that aren't your business."

"Listen to my son, Qingmiao used to always sneak into that dilapidated house after school two years ago."

"If you ask me, even if there were some strange things going on, the fortune teller Qing would have solved them long ago."

Chapter 3 Cultivating Both Body and Spirit

Rural families have never built houses in a neat and orderly manner; they fill in every available space, and feel they are losing out if they don't occupy enough space.

However, those who don't have a close relationship with their neighbors will usually leave a gap, no matter how narrow the room is.

This is even more important for maintaining good relationships.

Because if they share a wall, they're bound to clash and have disagreements every now and then.

If you're one of the later arrivals...

Sharing a wall with someone you're not related to, without their consent, is blatantly taking advantage of them.

Preparing to bully people.

Over the years, many narrow alleys have sprung up in the village, wide enough for only one or two people to pass through.

Like the wrinkles that time etches on the earth.

Qinghe Miao carefully watched her step as she passed through this deep and winding alley.

The moonlight was almost completely blocked here, with only a faint yellow glow coming through the gate of one's own courtyard at the far end.

He pushed open the heavy, half-closed iron door, and the hinges creaked open with a long, drawn-out groan.

The noise startled the courtyard.

The three stray dogs that had been lying in the shadows immediately perked up their ears, raised their heads warily, and let out low growls.

From the house at the far end of the courtyard, faint murmurs could be heard.

Once the starlight outlined Qing Hemiao's familiar figure, they relaxed again, wagged their tails perfunctorily twice, and lazily rested their chins on their front paws.

Walk through the moonlit courtyard, push open the door to the main house, and then turn around and push open the door to the west room next to the stove.

A strong, pungent smell of smoke suddenly wafted out and hit me.

It was the smell of cheap tobacco, firewood from the heated brick bed, and human body heat mixed together—pungent, warm, and filled with the rough, earthy aroma of the earth, permeating the small space and almost condensing into a grayish-white mist.

The interior is a typical old-style layout from outside the Great Wall.

The row of two-burner kang beds along the wall were burning warmly, and under the edge of the kang were old sofas that were considered fashionable for the village at that time, as well as several benches of different heights.

There were seven or eight people crammed into the room, their faces indistinct in the smoke and the light from the fifteen-watt bulb.

"Grandpa, Grandpa, Grandma... Good evening."

Qinghe Miao's gaze swept quickly across the room, greeting each person in turn, and finally looking at the inside of the kang (heated brick bed):

"Dad, Mom, I'm home."

These days, there aren't many entertainment options in the village.

So in the evenings, villagers with relatives would mostly gather at the homes of those with televisions to watch TV, play mahjong, chat, and so on.

Just like the other group of people at the entrance of the village alley.

Besides his grandparents, parents, and the village chief, the other people in the house were his relatives from the same village.

The first lesson I learned on this land outside the Great Wall was "calling people".

Children raised on the black soil should never be shy or unable to speak in front of others.

Otherwise, this matter would have been talked about by the villagers for half a year before tonight.

"Oh, Master Qing is back!"

Upon seeing him, the village chief quickly stubbed out his half-smoked, hand-rolled tobacco on the edge of the kang (a heated brick bed):

"So, did you figure anything out?"

Beside him, Qing's mother got up from the kang (a heated brick bed) with heartache, poured him a bowl of plain water, and handed it to him.

"Like I said before, there's no major problem."

Qing Hemiao took the scalding hot cup and smiled modestly:

"It's just a wisp of 'soul' left behind by our ancestors. It was left there in the chaos of war and they didn't have time to take it with them, so it has survived to this day. In life, it was a pitiful person with no hostility and was not particularly dangerous."

"Oh oh oh..."

The old and young men in the house listened with a mixture of understanding and confusion, as if they were listening to a bizarre story, with expressions of onlookers enjoying the spectacle.

But most people understood the last sentence, "There's no danger."

Since the fortune teller said it was nothing, then it must really be nothing.

“We watched Xiao Qingmiao grow up with his bare bottom on. I naturally believe what you say.”

Only the village chief smacked his lips twice, his rough fingers unconsciously rubbing the cigarette, before hesitating to speak again.

He paused, then looked up at the boy:

“But this thing… it can’t just sit here in the auditorium forever. It’s still ‘that thing’… How about, Xiao Qingmiao, you put in some effort and come up with a safe way to ‘send it away’? Or ‘get rid of it’?”

The village chief didn't understand.

But the village chief spoke of it casually, as if it were a trivial matter that could be easily accomplished with a wave of his hand.

"There is a way, but she is protected by a seal set up by a senior expert. If we want to get rid of her, we have to break that seal first."

Upon hearing this, Qing Hemiao deliberately put on a helpless expression and spread his hands, saying:

"But the seal is so complex that it's beyond my age and skill level. Forcing it might just release her instead. Perhaps... you could ask a truly skilled expert to take a look?"