Chapter Nineteenth: The Hometown Ghost Weeps

  It's clear that Lao Hei and Xiao Bai have flattered to the point of perfection, scratching the ancestor's ***, and received the ancestor's high praise. Upon hearing the ancestor's praise for his two subordinates, I was shocked speechless, as if I had just seen a corpse rotting in the water with its soul wandering wildly, churning over like an avalanche, if not for considering the ancestor's face, I would have vomited on the spot, although I knew that my stomach had long been emptied of even a single hair.

  The words and deeds of our ancestors are too inconsistent with the rumors in the world!

  At this moment, I really admire the public relations department of the underworld. This propaganda work is really amazing, and it's hard to say that something curved can be said to be a steel rod. The intensity of the propaganda work can be seen from this!

  Luckily, my ancestors changed the subject in time and didn't continue to praise their own appearance or make further explanations for their upright character. Although I'm not a very upright person myself, if I had to face such an obvious lie and still believe it, I would be betraying that bit of conscience I have left.

  "Where was I just now?" Ancestor had been deep in thought for a long time and had been talking to me without using Soul Reading Technique.

  "I remember! Just now, Wu Chang brother disrupted my train of thought. What I wanted to say is that this time, I came to find you, mainly for two things. First, to dispel your concerns and confirm what your father Mu Bai said again! This is my fixed ritual for every generation of the Cui family, and also to see some relatives, chat, and set up the Dragon Gate Array and so on. It seems that it's not necessary for you anymore. Second, to hand over some things. As for this, your dad has already told you everything, just believe him."

  Before the ancestor could finish speaking, he suddenly whistled towards Naihe Bridge, with a smile all over his face, like a chrysanthemum dancing in the wind, with a hint of shyness and charm.

  Following the gaze of my ancestors, I saw Meng Po's face, which had long been wrinkled from smiling, and almost stumbled and fell into the river.

  I couldn't help but sigh: this iron-faced and impartial judge is really too much, this obviously isn't the rhythm of being unsmiling and iron-faced, my faith, confidence, and conviction suddenly vanished.

  Where has the dignity of a senior official gone? This is too populist, too easy to be close to the people and ghosts.

  I'm starting to strongly suspect that I also have the genes of a slacker. It seems that Xiaomu's mother was quite apt in giving me the nickname, I wonder if current technology can satisfy my desire to change my genes?

  Looking at the surging tide of ghosts on the Naihe Bridge, my ancestor stood with his hands behind his back and said, "It seems like there are a lot of ghosts queuing up for Naihe today. Let's go to the other side of the Wangu Pavilion instead. Don't disturb Meng Po from working. With me around, Meng Po can't concentrate on her work. It's really too popular! Being handsome is actually quite troublesome. Living under the spotlight, there's no freedom at all."

  This serious expression is enough to make even ghosts drunk.

  I nodded while making a "two" hand gesture, hinting that our ancestor had just finished saying one thing and hadn't said the second thing yet!

  The ancestor also made a "V" shape with his hands and shouted "Yes, come on! EON!" I immediately fell to the ground, shouting "Damn it!". But I didn't dare say that this was the second point instead of scissors!!!

  Ever since I met my ancestors, I have become a complete "falling king".

  An ancestor spat out a large mouthful of something like molten lava on the ground, just like a piece of fiery charcoal that had just been dug out of the stove.

  Before I could even react, my ancestor suddenly pulled me up and with a "whoosh" sound, flashed out to the outside of the pavilion. I hadn't even had time to process this move when my body was already in front of the pavilion. This momentum! What's the point of Cloud Stepping, Water Floating, or Grass Flying techniques? They're simply too weak compared to this!

  Wherever you want to go, just "whoosh" and save electricity and money without queuing! If it can be popularized among Spring Festival travel colleagues, it will be a touching and practical people-benefiting project!

  Outside the Wangxiang Pavilion, I thought of a poem: Outside the long pavilion, where is the edge? The ghostly energy stinks to heaven...

  As I approached the pavilion, I saw that although it looked simple and elegant from a distance, when I got closer, I could see that it was actually in ruins. On the wooden sign above the courtyard were written three bright red characters "Wang Xiang Ting", but embarrassingly, the middle character "Xiang" had disappeared, and someone had pasted a large "Xiang" character written on A3 paper in its original place, pretending to be the original version, giving people a cheap feeling like a roadside motel.

  In the pavilion, a broken chair was placed, on which hung a small sign that read "Wangxiangtai". The pillars of the pavilion were engraved with many couplets and advertisements for treating various male diseases.

  What's even more astonishing is that the renowned Wengxiang Pavilion turned out to be a three-legged stool. How cool! It's clear that this three-legged stool was originally supposed to have four legs, with two complete legs and one completely broken off without a trace, and one leg "fractured" - the fractured part was bound with two strips of wood like bandages wrapped around a large package, looking very shabby, giving people the impression that the wooden chair leg had grown an enormous tree knot, disabled but still standing strong.

  I was puzzled, facing the ancestors "This broken stool won't be the legendary Wishing Platform, will it?" I curiously looked at this thing that was pretending to be a famous ancient relic in the guise of a broken stool.

  "Right, this stool is the famous Wàng Xiāng Tái (望乡台) in the mortal world! Also known as 'Thoughts of Home Ridge', it's a window for ghosts to gaze at the world of the living and a sacred place for the living and dead to connect emotionally. A very romantic spot, after death, standing on this stool... err, platform, one can ascend to gaze out at the mortal world, taking one last look, bidding farewell for the last time. It's a sentimental part of our underworld process, full of human feeling, always reflecting our ghost-centric magnanimity and openness. My ancestor's serious expression reminded me of those so-called report meetings I've heard about, and suddenly my butt tightened up."

  At this time, the only consolation is that I don't have to use that soul-reading technique anymore. The ancestor's expressions are too many and the shapes are too rich. My neck, which has been following the ancestor's ups and downs, can finally calm down and rest. Thank you to my own ancestor.

  As we spoke, an old ghost came down from the Naihe Bridge, trembling and swaying, without eye whites, emitting a heavy death aura and that eerie ghostly energy. I was very curious how these eyes without pupils could see this rugged little road, as if they had a built-in navigator.

  I looked at him curiously, and he nodded calmly, indicating that I should stand aside a bit.

  The old ghost walked to the chair beside us, pulled up his pants, loosened his belt, and then took a deep breath. Perhaps due to taking too much air, he let out a loud fart, filling the entire pavilion with a strong onion smell. After losing air, he could only start again from scratch. With great difficulty, he managed to take another breath, and just as he was about to climb up, the shaking chair legs made him look like an actor rehearsing for a "slip and fall" scene. Although I wanted to go forward and help him several times, I restrained myself when I remembered his ghostly identity.

  With this old ghost's repeated tossing method, I reckon that even if I could successfully climb up to the top of the pavilion, I would still end up tumbling down and losing my way back, and in severe cases, it's not impossible that I'd tumble to the point of my soul flying away.

  The ancestors probably couldn't bear it anymore, so they personally rolled up their sleeves and used the "Reading Soul" technique to gesture: "Really no eyesight, hurry up and lend a hand. Don't stand there like a soul-calling banner, not even a bit of public servant consciousness!"

  The two of us shouted loudly and with great effort, we moved the old ghost onto the stool. The moment his feet stepped onto the stool, a miraculous scene occurred:

  At this moment, the old ghost's eyes actually appeared with ink-colored pupils, his gaze was clear and pure like an infant, without any signs of aging that matched his ghostly age, as if time had flowed back to that energetic and vigorous youth era.

  The scene then switched to the famous Wangxiang Pavilion, where I and a judge escorted an old ghost who was about to embark on the road of reincarnation, looking back at his past life.

  The old ghost had one hand on my head and the other on our ancestor's shoulder, his homesickness reached a deep place, resulting in many tears and snot flowing out. These thick mixtures floated down onto me and our ancestor with the west wind, making us look disheveled and almost covering our faces. I couldn't help but sigh, "This is indeed the legendary ghostly cry!" The amount was really too much, if we had two safety helmets on, we shouldn't have caught a cold!

  It's probably because this supporting role is really hard to play, anyway I've already got numb arms and legs cramping, sweating profusely, and my butt is clenched tight. Ancestor glanced at his watch, raised his head and said to the old ghost: "Old buddy, isn't it about time? Even if we keep watching, he won't come back, let the departed go, children and grandchildren have their own blessings, what's meant to be forgotten should be forgotten, being a good person for a lifetime is not easy, hurry up and reincarnate!" My ancestor and I simultaneously wiped away our runny noses with our sleeves.

  However, older brother, you can't say that your emotions are too rich, we're all sentimental people! Just as a mixture of snot and tears was about to land on the ancestor's opening and closing big mouth like lightning, I was shocked speechless.

  Ancestors are indeed ancestors, this skill is quite agile, a flick of the head, and this thing was thrown out several miles away. The ancestor casually wiped the snot stuck to his eyes with one hand, while gesturing for me to help the old ghost down from the stool together. Along with the old ghost's words of gratitude, my ancestor and I both sat on the ground, panting like oxen, drenched in sweat. At this moment, except for a patch of white, the old ghost's eye sockets were empty, and his pupils had long since disappeared without a trace.

  Due to excessive workload, I was physically exhausted and craved a cigarette. I rummaged through all my pockets but couldn't find a single cigarette. My ancestor looked at me and said, "Looking for cigarettes? You're not old, but your smoking habit is quite big."

  As we spoke, my ancestor took out a bronze box from the pocket of his fat uniform. This box was extremely long, and I really didn't know how it fit in my ancestor's pocket. Inside, there were rows of things that looked like cigarettes. He pulled one out and handed it to me.

  I held it in my hand, "Damn, is this incense stick for burning incense? Smoking this, not even a hole! As expected, the word 'damn' immediately earned me an explosion from my ancestor. My ancestor covered his left nostril with his right hand and blew out a flame from his right nostril. I reluctantly borrowed some sparks from my ancestor's nostrils and smoked a fragrant incense stick flavor smoke, but to say this smoke doesn't look great, it's quite strong.

  It's just that this flavor is a bit strange, with a burning paper and incense feeling when swallowing.

  Since Zhou Mo left, I have obviously become a typical smoker. I like the feeling of being wrapped in smoke with every puff, and a kind of inexplicable sense of security makes me fascinated.