I am a full-level celestial master, you let me enter the strange talk of rules?

After listening to Zhang Yangqing's explanation, Qin Ming's expression remained calm and composed.

That composure wasn't feigned; it was a calmness born from having long anticipated this day, a sense that what was meant to happen would eventually come.

Qin Ming walked to the roadside guardrail. The guardrail was made of cement and was very low, just reaching his knees.

He pulled a pack of cigarettes and a plastic lighter from his pocket. The cigarettes were a cheap, ordinary brand that cost a dozen yuan a pack, and the lighter was the kind you buy at a convenience store, with a transparent casing that revealed that the liquid inside was still half full.

He put the cigarette in his mouth, lit the lighter, and the flame shot up, but then he stopped.

He looked up at Zhang Yangqing and asked, "Daoist Master, you don't mind if I have a cigarette, do you?"

Zhang Yangqing said, "Do as you please."

The enigmatic Qin Ming nodded and lit a cigarette.

He took a deep breath, and the smoke he exhaled was blown away by the night wind and disappeared into the moonlight.

He rested his hand, holding a cigarette, on the railing, his gaze fixed on the distant mountains, dark and seemingly endless.

"Cigarettes are really good."

"It's eerie," Qin Ming said softly, as if he were talking to himself.

"To relieve your worries, one cigarette isn't enough, so you smoke two; if two aren't enough, you smoke a whole pack. Smoke until your mouth is numb, and then you won't want to think anymore."

He flicked his cigarette ash, and the grayish-white ashes drifted into the night wind.

Zhang Yangqing looked at him and asked, "Do you need an explanation?"

The enigmatic Qin Ming shook his head, took another drag of his cigarette, and exhaled smoke from his nostrils: "No need. Your guess is pretty much right, but there's one thing I can't understand."

Zhang Yangqing said, "Tell me about it."

Qin Ming remained silent for a moment, as if he was organizing his thoughts.

He flicked the ash from his cigarette, took another puff, and then spoke.

His voice was unhurried, as if he were telling a story that had nothing to do with him.

"Humans are strange creatures. Qin Ming clearly has a better future. He could have done more and made his life better, but he still stays here to take care of his grandmother, carefully and selflessly. This doesn't make sense to me. I try to understand, but I can't."

The eerie Qin Ming turned around, leaned against the railing, and looked at Zhang Yangqing.

The moonlight shone on his face; his expression was calm, but something complex was churning in his eyes.

"Actually, Qin Ming's grades are very good. He could get into not only a university, but also a top university. I've seen his test papers, and they are very standard. He's very talented. I deduced that he must have deliberately made mistakes in the college entrance examination. He gave up his future just to take care of his grandmother."

His voice carried an indescribable emotion—not anger, but regret.

"This guy is also stupid. Those poultry are clearly low-intelligence creatures. Even if you treat them well, they won't be grateful. Instead, they will peck you. They are just food and don't need any pity. I really can't understand why Qin Ming takes such good care of those poultry. He would rather get hurt himself than harm those poultry."

The eerie Qin Ming stubbed out his cigarette on the railing. The sparks struggled on the surface of the railing for a moment before going out. He held the cigarette in his hand instead of throwing it on the ground.

"He could have avoided such hardship. He could have gone further, to better places, and lived a better life. Why did he stay here? Why did he have to suffer like this? Why did he have to confine himself to this small county town?"

The eerie Qin Ming seemed to be speaking to himself, yet also to the Qin Ming who wasn't there.

He said a lot, as if he were telling Zhang Yangqing a story, or as if he had finally found someone to tell him what Qin Ming had done over the years.

Because Qin Ming would never say these things; he would just bear it all alone.

Just like Grandma said, Qin Ming is a good child and has been sensible since he was little.

He endured all hardships by himself, never complaining of being tired, in pain, or wronged.

The strange Qin Ming then became Qin Ming's mouthpiece, pouring out all the words that had been bottled up in his heart over the years.

He was indignant on behalf of Qin Mingming, and he was speaking out for that silent, gentle young man who swallowed all his bitterness.

Zhang Yangqing looked at him without speaking. After he finished speaking, after he finished smoking, and after he had said everything, he finally spoke: "Perhaps this is the complexity of human emotions. The more you see, the less you understand, because you came with a purpose. It is normal for you to use any means to achieve your goals. You cannot understand these efforts that have no reward, but the fact that you stay and try to understand says something in itself."

The eerie Qin Ming remained silent for a long time, the moonlight shining on him, the night wind blowing across the hillside, the withered grass rustling.

He gripped the cigarette butt in his hand even tighter, as if he were holding onto something and couldn't bear to let go.

“That’s right. I actually envy Qin Ming, or rather, I envy humans. I envy that you can have a life of your own. The more I try to play him, the worse I play him, because his life is not my life, his memories are not my memories. I can copy his every action, every word, every expression, but I can’t copy the kind of relationship between him and his grandmother.”

Zhang Yangqing smiled and said, "Actually, you've already started to understand. You're pretending not to understand so that I won't hold back when I'm dealing with you, and so that I won't feel guilty. You've learned the gentleness that's in Qin Ming's bones."

Zhang Yangqing was certain of this because Qin Ming had been considerate of Zhang Yangqing's feelings when he lit his cigarette.

That kind of instinctive thoughtfulness, the fear of causing trouble for others, cannot be learned by imitation.

It's something that grew from the very core of me after I truly immersed myself in the role of Qin Ming.

The enigmatic Qin Ming also smiled, a faint but sincere smile, like the relief of someone having their thoughts read: "Really? Thank you for the compliment. I don't even know if I've succeeded or failed. So, are you going to make a move against me?"

Zhang Yangqing looked at him and said calmly, "Don't worry about that. I will be ruthless and eradicate you from this world."

Upon hearing this, the enigmatic Qin Ming laughed even harder, as if he had finally received the answer he wanted: "That's great, but little Taoist, you can't defeat me. You don't know how strong I am. I'll spare your life today. Remember, it's not that you won, it's that I don't want to play anymore."

As soon as he finished speaking, black smoke began to billow from his eyes and mouth.

The black smoke was not ordinary smoke, but a thick, ink-like, eerie consciousness.

It gushed from his seven orifices, as if something was being peeled away from his body.

Qin Ming's body began to weaken, his legs bent slightly, as if he could no longer support himself.

The black smoke condensed in mid-air for a moment, resembling a human figure or a shapeless wisp of mist.

It lingered in the moonlight for a moment, glanced at Qin Ming, and then began to dissipate.

It doesn't disappear suddenly, but rather, like ice melting, it fades, thins, and becomes transparent from the edges.

It scattered with a gust of wind.

Zhang Yangqing didn't stop him because it wasn't necessary; this strange entity no longer needed him to "eliminate" it.

The cigarette butt fell to the ground with a soft "thud".

The sparks had died down, but a trace of warmth remained on the cigarette butt, slowly cooling in the night breeze.

It lay on the cement road, like a period or a bookmark, marking the end of a story.

The cigarette holder is still there, which means 'he' was here.

The extinguished cigarette butt meant that 'he' was gone.

Qin Ming swayed for a moment, then regained his balance.

He lowered his head, looking at his hands, then raised his head again, looking at the surrounding mountains, trees, roads, and moon.

Qin Ming's eyes were filled with confusion, as if he had just woken up from a long dream and hadn't yet distinguished between dream and reality: "Where am I? How did I get here? Wasn't I sleeping at home?"

When he saw Zhang Yangqing, he instinctively became wary. In the dead of night, in the middle of nowhere, anyone would be wary of a stranger standing in front of them.

But he soon noticed Zhang Yangqing's Taoist robe, which was gray with a black cloth belt tied around his waist and a string of copper coins hanging from it.

His guard had lessened somewhat, but his confusion remained.

"Master, who are you? May I ask what just happened? How did I get here?" Qin Ming's voice was very soft, with a hint of caution.

Zhang Yangqing looked at him, his tone calm: "I came from Longhu Mountain. Your grandmother asked me to resolve the strange phenomenon surrounding you." (End of Chapter)