My words have become law; I truly have no desire to display my divine power before others.

After reciting the prayer, the three sacrificial animals were carried back, and each family received a share, which was considered as sharing in the blessings.

The ginseng that was offered as a gift cannot be sold; it must be kept for personal consumption, either to make wine or soup. In short, it cannot be exchanged for money.

These are the rules; those who break the rules will not be able to harvest ginseng next year.

After Miao Gui finished speaking, Lü Yang listened with great interest: "That's quite sophisticated."

Miao Gui nodded: "That's right. Ginseng gatherers rely on the mountains for their livelihood, and there are many rules. If you don't respect the Ginseng Master, he won't give you any ginseng."

Lu Yang asked in confusion.

"Everyone says that those who live near the mountains live off the mountains, so why not worship the mountain god?"

Miao Gui scoffed.

"Worship the mountain god? Are you kidding me? The mountain god hasn't appeared for thousands of years. Many demons and monsters are eyeing this position, each believing they are the rightful successor to the mountain god."

"You used to worship the mountain god, but who are you worshipping now? Who knows which big shot might pass by one day and, if they're petty, just raze your whole village to the ground."

After he finished speaking, he suddenly remembered something and lowered his voice: "But I heard that this year's grand festival seems to be a little different."

Lü Yang asked, "How is it different?"

Miao Gui shook his head: "I don't know either. It seems like something went wrong. Yesterday, I heard people in the village whispering that the ginseng selected this year wasn't of very good quality."

In previous years, they were all 500-year-old pieces, but this year they're only 300-year-old, so we really couldn't find anything better.

Lü Yang was taken aback: "Three hundred years? That's not a short time. The requirements here are too high!"

Miao Gui sighed, "Ginseng has become increasingly difficult to harvest in recent years. The ginseng from good years has either been taken by others or harmed by mountain spirits and monsters. If this continues, the ginseng-harvesting village will likely face even more difficult times."

As they spoke, their voices gradually lowered.

Ye Qingfeng stood at the door, listening to their conversation without saying a word.

He stood there for a while, seemingly lost in thought, then turned and went back into the house.

As the sun rose higher, the village became lively.

After the clan elders returned, news of the grand ceremony spread.

Some people rejoice, others worry.

The good news is that a great master came to observe the ceremony this year, which is an honor for the village.

The worry is that this year's ginseng is really not presentable, and I'm afraid it will be embarrassing in front of the Great Master.

The clan elders didn't care about any of that; they only cared about arranging the grand ceremony for tomorrow.

He had the temple thoroughly cleaned inside and out, the offering table polished to a shine, and the ashes in the incense burner emptied and replaced with fresh ones.

They also sent someone to invite the best cook in the village to prepare the banquet after the grand ceremony tomorrow.

After a busy morning, the clan elder sat in his main room, took a sip of tea, and let out a long sigh of relief.

His son came in from outside and asked in a low voice, "Dad, did that Taoist priest really agree?"

The clan elder nodded.

The son then asked, "So, is he going to the ceremony tomorrow, or...?"

The clan elder put down his teacup: "Of course, I'm here to observe the ceremony. The Taoist priest is a guest; how can we let him do the work?"

The son said "Oh," then hesitated for a moment: "What should we say if someone asks about it tomorrow?"

The clan elder glanced at him and asked, "What did you say?"

The son lowered his voice and said, "Tell them that the Taoist priest was invited by our village. Let those outsiders know that our ginseng-gathering village also has powerful backers."

The clan elder remained silent for a while, without responding.

He picked up his teacup, took another sip, looked at the sunlight outside the window, and suddenly smiled.

"The fact that the Taoist priest came is a great honor for the village. As for whether he has any connections or not... he's not even from our village. It's already a great blessing that he came to visit."

The son wanted to say something more, but the clan elder waved his hand to stop him.

"Go and wipe the candlesticks in the temple, so we don't embarrass ourselves tomorrow."

The son responded and went out.

The clan elder sat in the main room, looking at the sunlight in the courtyard, pondering the arrangements for tomorrow's grand ceremony.

Although it's not good to attend a banquet, proper etiquette is still important.

The Taoist priest has arrived; we must arrange a good seat for him, we can't let him stand.

You must also be careful not to neglect your guests at banquets.

As he was thinking, he suddenly felt full of energy, stood up, and, leaning on his cane, went to the temple.

At the temple gate, several old ginseng gatherers were talking. When they saw the clan elder coming over, they all gathered around.

"Elder, is that Taoist priest really coming tomorrow?"

The clan elder nodded.

"That's wonderful! With the real person here, Lord Ginseng will surely be pleased, and our ginseng business will definitely be booming next year!"

The clan elder didn't reply, but just smiled.

He entered the temple, stood before the statue of the Ginseng God, and respectfully bowed.

"Sir, we have distinguished guests coming tomorrow. Please help look after them while you're there."

The smoke from the incense burner rose in wisps, spreading in the sunlight, as if someone had heard it, yet also as if no one had.

There was only a small, transparent figure faintly visible behind the statue of the Ginseng God, inhaling incense.

......

Mist billowed out of the forest, gray and hazy, like smoke rising from the ground.

The shadows of trees appeared and disappeared in the mist, making it impossible to distinguish whether they were trees or people.

The ground was covered with decaying leaves, and it felt soft and yielding underfoot, like stepping on the corpse of something.

Several people stumbled out of the fog.

There are five in total.

Leading the way was a dark-faced man wearing tattered armor. The iron plates on his shoulders had fallen off at some point, revealing his clothes torn by thorns.

Four soldiers followed behind him, their armor tattered. One had lost his helmet, another his sword, and the third had even lost a shoe, walking barefoot in the mud, his soles cut raw and bloody by the rubble.

They spent a day wandering around in the mountains.

No, it's two days.

Three days?

The dark-faced man couldn't remember anymore.

All he remembered was that after rushing into the fog that day, he never saw the sun again.

The sky above was always gray, and the surrounding forest was always dark.

It was daytime, but the woods were as dark as dusk.

Even though I was walking in one direction, I ended up circling back to where I started.

They've encountered so much.

First came the miasma, yellowish-green in color, which emerged from cracks in the ground; just one whiff of it made you dizzy.

The two soldiers inhaled the miasma, collapsed to the ground convulsing, foaming at the mouth, and died in less than the time it takes for an incense stick to burn.

Then came the mandrill, which appeared out of nowhere, covered in black fur with blood-red eyes, and ripped another soldier's throat apart in one swift motion.

They ran for their lives, disappearing into a dense forest. Behind them came the howls of mandrills, but whether they couldn't catch up or were too lazy to chase, the sound gradually faded into the distance.

Then a venomous snake, hiding under the fallen leaves, bit a soldier's ankle.

The soldier collapsed after walking less than a hundred paces, his face turning black and his lips turning purple, without uttering a sound.

There were over thirty people who came in, but now only five remain.

The dark-faced man glanced back at the four defeated soldiers behind him, but said nothing.

He knew that if he couldn't get out of there, he wouldn't be able to save these five people either.

"General, there's a road ahead... there's a road ahead!"

A soldier pointed ahead, his voice trembling.

The dark-faced man looked up and saw that the fog had indeed thinned out a bit.