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

Who knows, these strange entities might start fighting among themselves.

After several breaths, an even older voice came from the direction of the tree trunk, as if the tree itself was speaking.

"What are we going to do? Just let them wander around like that? What will happen to the reputation of Huaiyin Village?"

"Face?" The aged voice sneered. "You still have face? Your face has been plastered with makeup for hundreds of years, what use is face to you?"

A few voices chuckled softly, then fell silent.

"Alright then," the old voice said, "whoever is confident can go. Those who aren't should stay away. Don't get yourself involved, and don't drag the neighbors down with you."

"I'll go first." A deep, oily voice drifted down from the branches.

"Those mortals haven't even reached my territory yet. Once they do, I'll deal with them. Just you wait and see."

"You old codger, haven't made a move in over a decade, are you still any good?"

"Whether it works or not, you'll just have to wait and see."

"It's settled then, you go first. If you win, we'll follow behind and pick up the scraps; if you lose, we'll collect your corpse—oh, you won't even get a corpse."

Several voices laughed again. The laughter was shrill, floating in the night sky like the hooting of an owl.

The voice that had spoken did not respond.

A dark figure silently slid down from among the locust tree branches and leaves, landing on the ground and transforming into a hunched old man carrying a load of oil drums, slowly walking towards the other end of the street.

He didn't look at his whispering companions, nor at the eyes hidden behind the door.

He walked very steadily, and not a single drop of oil spilled from the oil drum.

"The oil seller is about to make his move."

"Now that we've sold the oil, it's time to sell the melons."

"And the cloth seller, the noodle seller, the flower seller... just wait. These mortals won't make it to the inn."

"not necessarily."

"What do you mean?"

"It doesn't mean anything. Just watch."

......

The black liquid from the fried food stall hadn't completely dried yet.

Wisps of white smoke rose from the bluestone slabs, swirling in the night breeze before slowly dissipating.

The smell of tar mixed with the dampness of the night wind entered my nose. It wasn't foul, but rather an indescribable, astringent odor that made my heart clench.

Lu Yang stood beside the still-smoking oil stain, looking down at the black liquid seeping into the cracks in the stone. The handkerchief on his arm was slightly lifted by the wind.

He pressed the handkerchief back down, tied it tighter, and looked up at the street ahead.

The street was long, with shops lining both sides, their doors tightly shut, but something was clearly moving behind them.

It wasn't footsteps; it was something lighter, like something curling up and moving backward.

The sound rustled and whispered, passing from one house to another, and from one house to even more distant places.

Like the wind blowing through an autumn reed bed, it sounds both far away and very close.

There were many "people" on this street just now.

Those "people" dressed in various colors, with their heels not touching the ground and their faces indistinct, walked back and forth between the shops. Some carried loads on their shoulders, some pushed carts, and some gathered in twos and threes to talk in hushed tones.

But now, all those "people" have disappeared.

They didn't walk away slowly; they scattered with a "whoosh," like a flock of startled birds.

Some of them squeezed into the shops next door, and the doors slammed shut with a "bang." From inside came the sound of hurried, light footsteps, which grew farther and farther away, as if they were running underground.

Some disappeared directly into the shadows at the alley entrance, leaving no trace.

Others stood frozen in place for a moment, then let out a short, sharp scream, a sound that, though not loud, was enough to make your eardrums ache.

After they finished calling, they ran away, even faster than the previous ones.

Lu Yang's hand was still on the hilt of his sword, and he had even pulled the sword out three inches.

He was prepared, ready for those eerie creatures to swarm him and for him to draw his sword and slash them down.

He had even mentally rehearsed the starting stance of the Qingping Sword Technique several times—the first sword sweeps horizontally, the second sword slashes upwards, the third sword thrusts straight in, and the fourth sword changes its move.

But now, all those strange things have disappeared.

He had half a sword hanging at his waist, unsure whether to advance or retreat.

He turned to look at Ye Qingfeng, his expression complex.

There was confusion, bewilderment, and a touch of inexplicable disappointment.

"Master, they..." He pointed to the tightly closed doors, "How did they all escape?"

Ye Qingfeng stood with his hands behind his back, his gaze sweeping over the closed doors, a faint smile playing on his lips.

Instead of answering directly, he asked, "If you saw a supernatural being kill someone on the streets of Jingyang Prefecture, what would be your first thought?"

Lu Yang was stunned for a moment. He pictured the scene in his mind—the streets of Jingyang Prefecture, paved with bluestone, lined with shops selling cloth, grain, and tea, bustling with people, as lively as a festival.

Then an anomaly appeared. It killed people, not just one, but several. Blood flowed everywhere, and corpses piled up by the roadside.

He was standing on the street corner when he saw this scene.

What was his first thought?

"Of course we run!" Lu Yang blurted out, then froze himself.

Ye Qingfeng glanced at him, his gaze calm, as if to say, "That's right."

The corners of his mouth turned up slightly, the curve wasn't big, but Lü Yang felt that the immortal master was laughing at him.

"They are too," Ye Qingfeng said.

"Moreover, they are inherently selfish, cunning, and cowardly bullies."

Lü Yang opened his mouth, then closed it again.

He looked at the tightly closed doors, at the faint light filtering through the cracks, and at the shadowy figures hidden behind the window paper.

He suddenly understood.

In the eyes of those strange beings, these "people" are the odd ones out.

They stormed into the ghost market and killed its "residents." In the eyes of those eerie beings, they were the strange creatures on the street corner, covered in blood and holding knives.

So those strange reactions were the same as his—running.

Hide.

Close the door, hide yourself, and wait for the danger to pass.

Lu Yang looked down at the three-inch sword he had drawn, its blade gleaming with a cold blue light under the moonlight.

He suddenly found it somewhat amusing, and pushed the sword back into its sheath with a crisp, clean click.

Miao Gui stood behind him, carrying a bundle on his back, with a chubby baby squatting on the bundle.

The chubby baby was also startled by the strange commotion of those fleeing creatures. He almost dropped the roasted mushroom in his hand, quickly grabbed it with both hands, and stared wide-eyed at the closed doors.

Seeing that Lü Yang had sheathed his sword, he breathed a sigh of relief, put the roasted mushroom back into his mouth, and took a bite.

Miao Gui asked in a low voice, "Immortal Master, shall we continue forward?"

Ye Qingfeng had already lifted his foot.

"Walk."