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

His fingers tapped lightly on the teacup once, twice, three times.

"Old Zhao is dead." His voice was very soft, as if he were talking to someone.

A voice drifted out from behind the counter, high-pitched and thin.

"Dead. Not even ashes remained."

That was the talking parrot on the counter, with gray-blue feathers and red eyes. It tilted its head and looked at him with one eye.

"Where is the oil seller?"

"He died too. He died in the alley, turned into a pile of ashes, and was blown away by the wind."

Old Man Huai remained silent for a moment.

His fingers paused for a moment, then began to tap again.

Four, five, six.

"Who else?"

"A few fools tried to join the fun, but were scared away by that Taoist's words. That brat also met his end. His head was crushed, the illusion was shattered, and although he's not dead yet, he's probably not far from it."

Old Man Huai frowned even more deeply.

He put down his teacup, leaned back in his chair, and gazed at the dark night outside the window.

The light from the lanterns cast patches of red on the window paper, like blood or rouge.

He was thinking about something.

These neighbors, whether it's Old Zhao, the oil seller, or that little devil, are all considered strong in the ghost market.

But they didn't even have a chance to fight back against that person. It wasn't that they couldn't beat him, it was that there was simply no way for them to fight.

He had never seen or understood that person's methods.

Pouring oil, kicking a gourd, stomping on someone's head—each of these is a small matter, but behind each of these small matters, a ghost dies.

They weren't killed by a knife, nor burned to death, but killed by the rules.

That person seemed to be using their own rules to take their lives.

Just like how they toyed with humans in the past.

Old Man Huai stopped what he was doing and looked out the window.

The clouds have arrived.

The ink surged in from all directions, completely blocking the cracks in the sky, obscuring the moonlight, and dimming the light of the lanterns.

The air felt heavy, making my chest feel suffocated.

Old Man Huai's body suddenly tensed up.

His hands were shaking.

He quickly stood up, walked to the window, and opened it.

The night wind blew in, cool and refreshing, but he only felt its biting chill.

His eyes were fixed on the dark cloud in the sky.

There is light flashing in the clouds.

Golden, rolling and leaping in the dark clouds, like angry dragons.

There was no sound, only flashes of lightning that illuminated the entire Huaiyin Village as if it were daytime.

He saw the closed doors, the huddled shadows behind them, and their trembling.

He saw the Taoist priest.

The man stood in the square, hands behind his back, looking up at the dark cloud.

His Taoist robe fluttered in the wind, but he didn't even blink.

The lightning bolt was right above his head, so close it seemed it would strike at any moment, but he neither dodged nor showed any fear.

A faint smile was on his face.

Old Huai gripped the window frame, his knuckles turning white from the pressure.

He knew what it was—it was heavenly lightning, lightning specifically designed to strike such creatures.

His inn has protective barriers, which have allowed it to escape many dangers over the centuries.

But at this moment, he felt it.

The lightning was so close and so bright; every time it flashed, his heart skipped a beat.

He knew that if that lightning really struck, his protective barrier wouldn't be able to stop it, his inn wouldn't be able to stop it, and neither would he.

He loosened the window frame, took a step back, then another, until he reached the table and sat down, leaning on it for support.

His hands were still trembling, and he knocked over the teacup, spilling tea all over the table, but he didn't bother to wipe it up.

His mind was a mess.

He didn't care about the deaths of those neighbors.

It's perfectly normal for a few ghosts to die in a ghost market.

But this lightning bolt, this thing, made him realize for the first time that he might have messed with someone he shouldn't have.

That's heavenly lightning!

He had never seen anyone summon heavenly lightning.

But today, I've learned something new.

The heavenly thunder actually obeyed the command of a Taoist priest, completely losing its usual majesty.

That Taoist priest never took those ghosts seriously from the beginning.

He wasn't there specifically to exorcise ghosts; he was just passing by. They were merely things he casually wiped away.

Old Man Huai took a deep breath, held it in his chest for a long time, and then slowly exhaled.

Who exactly is this Taoist priest?

He didn't know.

But judging from what just happened, the other party seems to be playing around, not killing indiscriminately.

Rather, it was because they had violated some taboo that they took action.

Perhaps there are some restrictions on how this Taoist priest can act?

Otherwise, with this Taoist's abilities, he could easily wipe out the entire ghost market, so why go through all this trouble?

Thinking of this, Old Man Huai was also slightly excited, feeling as if he had grasped something important.

Old Man Huai picked up his teacup and drank the last sip of his cool tea.

The tea was bitter, but he didn't notice.

He put down the cup, leaned back in his chair, and closed his eyes.

He was waiting, waiting for those people to reach the entrance of his inn, waiting for him to get up, go downstairs, open the door, and welcome his guests.

Just like every night for the past few centuries.

This time, however, his back would be bent lower than usual, and a fawning smile would appear on his face.

......

Thunder still rumbled in the clouds, and golden lightning flashed one after another, illuminating the entire Huaiyin Village in an uncertain light.

The little boy—the one with the pigtails sticking up, wearing a red bib, and a face as beautiful as a peach blossom—stood in the center of the square, looking up at the churning dark clouds in the sky.

His pupils reflected those golden lightning bolts, flashing like two lamps about to go out.

His body was trembling.

He lived for countless years; in this Huaiyin Village, he was the longest-lived person besides Huai Weng.

When the neighbors saw him, who didn't bow their head?

Who doesn't call him "Young Master"?

But now, this Taoist priest who appeared out of nowhere stomped on his ball and even summoned heavenly lightning.

Heavenly lightning, that's something specifically designed to strike down those kinds of things.

He didn't believe it.

He didn't believe that the lightning was summoned by this Taoist priest.

Thunder and rain are natural occurrences, what does that have to do with an ordinary person?

"Impossible—" His voice changed from a childish tone to a sharp scream, like someone scratching glass with fingernails, making his eardrums ache.

His body began to swell, and his red bellyband burst open, revealing black mist.

The fog was as thick as ink, gushing out of his body and enveloping him completely, leaving only his eyes visible.

He rushed towards Ye Qingfeng.

It was very fast, as fast as an arrow released from a bow.

A long tail of black mist trailed behind him, corroding deep grooves in the bluestone slabs as it passed, hissing and emitting white smoke.

His mouth was open, revealing fine, dense teeth like shards of glass, as he bit down towards Ye Qingfeng's throat.