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

At the very back were the villagers, young and old; some were holding flags, some were beating drums and gongs, and some were playing the suona.

The procession was so long that it filled the entire alley.

Ye Qingfeng and the others were placed in the middle of the group.

They weren't in any prominent positions, but no one dared to neglect them.

At each intersection, people stopped and bowed to Ye Qingfeng.

Lü Yang also benefited from this; when those people bowed to the Taoist priest, they would also glance at him, their eyes filled with the same reverence.

Lu Yang's lips were practically curling up to the sky, but he gritted his teeth and forced himself not to laugh.

Miao Gui walked beside him and whispered, "Is your mouth cramping?"

Lu Yang glared at him: "No."

Miao Gui didn't say anything more, but a barely suppressed smile played on his lips.

The chubby baby is in the Ginseng Temple.

After he woke up, A'luo carried him to the temple.

The temple was crowded with people, and the smoke was so thick that it made everyone cough.

The chubby baby peeked out from A Luo's arms, sniffed, and its eyes suddenly lit up.

He smelled the scent of incense, not the pungent smoke of a temple, but a sweet, warm, honey-like aroma.

He secretly slipped out of A Luo's arms, crawled under the offering table, squatted next to the incense burner, and frantically inhaled the smoke.

The cigarette smoke drifted out of the incense burner, into his nose, into his mouth, and into every pore of his body.

His body was glowing, a faint, white light, like moonlight. He squinted, a look of pure bliss on his face, feeling light as if he were about to float away.

Those cigarettes were in strands, some thick, some thin, some strong, some weak.

Most cigarettes are gone after one puff, like drinking plain water—they quench your thirst, but they don't have much flavor.

But one cigarette is different.

That cigarette was one of the three incense sticks Ye Qingfeng had lit; it was very thin and long, standing there like a needle.

The smoke it emits is golden-white, not bluish-green; it's very faint, yet very pure.

The chubby baby took a sip and shuddered, as if someone had poured a bucket of hot water over him from head to toe, and his pores opened up.

He took another breath and felt as if he were floating on clouds, light and soft, so comfortable that he was about to fall asleep.

His body began to emit a fragrance, not the scent of flowers, nor the scent of fruit.

It had a rich, mellow aroma, like herbs simmering in a clay pot for a long time, that wafted out, spread throughout the temple, and mingled with the cigarette smoke.

A'Luo smelled it, looked down to find the chubby baby, and found him squatting under the offering table, hugging the incense burner's leg, with his eyes closed, his face red, and drool dripping from the corner of his mouth.

She was startled, crawled in and pulled him out, touched his face, and found it was burning hot.

She shook him, and the chubby baby opened his eyes, looking at her groggily, smiling but not speaking, as if he were drunk.

A'lu was both annoyed and amused, and carried him out of the temple.

The chubby baby was perched on her shoulder, still sniffling and reluctant to leave the temple's fragrance.

A Luo slapped his bottom, and the chubby baby cried out "Ouch!" and finally woke up a bit, looking at A Luo with a wronged expression.

The procession reached the east end of the village, turned a corner, and headed south.

Lu Yang's legs were aching from walking when he suddenly saw a familiar figure ahead.

It's Yunniang.

Today she was wearing a light blue dress, her hair was tied up with a silver hairpin, and she was holding an oil-paper umbrella.

The umbrella is pale yellow, painted with a few plum blossoms, and looks beautiful in the sunlight.

She walked slowly, a smile on her face—not a polite, forced smile, but a genuine, heartfelt smile that flowed from her eyes. (The author, "A Writer Who Loves to Draw," recommends reading "Words Become Law, This Poor Taoist Priest Truly Doesn't Want to Show Off in Public," available through the "Renren Bookstore" app. Download and install the app.)

There was no one beside her, but the way she walked was a little strange, as if someone was holding her arm. Her hand was slightly bent, as if it were resting on someone's arm.

She occasionally turned her head to the side, as if she were talking to someone.

Lu Yang paused for a moment, recalling what happened last night, the story the immortal master had told, the leaf, and the ghost of the scholar.

He didn't speak, but just watched quietly as Yunniang held up her umbrella and walked through the crowd, accompanied by someone no one could see.

Sunlight shone on the oil-paper umbrella, casting its shadow on the ground.

There was only one person's shadow.

But on the ground next to her, something was swaying slightly, so faintly that it was almost invisible, as if someone was standing there, or as if there was nothing at all.

Miao Gui saw it too.

He tugged at Lü Yang's sleeve, gestured towards Yun Niang's direction with his lip, and whispered, "Did you see that?"

Lü Yang nodded.

"Is there someone with her...?"

Lu Yang quickly covered his mouth: "Don't talk nonsense."

Miao Gui pushed his hand away, glared at him, and said nothing more.

The two watched silently as Yunniang walked past them, a sweet smile on her face.

It felt like going back to a day long ago, when that man was still alive, she was young, and she had nothing to worry about.

Ye Qingfeng walked ahead and also saw Yunniang.

As the procession moved further and further away, the sounds of gongs, drums, suonas, and firecrackers mingled together, echoing through the village.

Sunlight streamed in from the other side of the mountain, shining on the bluestone path, the red lanterns, and people's faces, creating a warm and pleasant atmosphere.

A new day has begun.

......

The sun has already risen, shining on the ridges of the Ten Thousand Mountains, illuminating the ravines and valleys clearly.

The leader of Black Wind Village rode his horse along the mountain ridge toward Ginseng Gathering Village.

He walked neither fast nor slow; the horse was an old one and knew the mountain path well, so he didn't need to urge it on.

He wore a black rhinoceros armor, the plates polished to a gleaming shine, shimmering with a dark, somber light in the sunlight.

He had a black iron sword hanging at his waist. The scabbard was black and undecorated, but the sword could cut through iron like mud. It took him ten years to acquire it.

He walked all night, from Black Wind Village to Ginseng Gathering Village, hundreds of miles of mountain road, changing horses three times.

The last horse he changed to was too tired to run anymore, so he slowed down to let the horse rest, and he also took a break.

He's not in a hurry.

Anyway, that 500-year-old ginseng is bound to survive.

That idiot second-in-command thinks he won't know just because I'm keeping things hidden.

He knows everything.

That demonic bird, with its dark red vertical pupils, could transmit news from thousands of miles away to his ears.

He knew everything the second-in-command did, said, and thought.

They just don't say it.

The horse got tired, snorted, and stopped under an old pine tree.

Xiong Lie didn't urge it on. He jumped off the horse, stood on the ridge, and looked in the direction of the ginseng-gathering village.

From here, Caishen Village looks very small, like a pile of building blocks in the valley.

Smoke rose from the village and drifted away in the morning light.

He looked at it for a while, then frowned.

The second-in-command has disappeared.