It all started with one person becoming a shaman, but the Stand user...

It all started with one person becoming a shaman, but the Stand user...

Author: Lie Wenzi Tang

Heaven's Gate can replace some of the effects of Spirit Binding and Dual Hands, while the effects of Platinum Star and World far surpass those of Chaotic Golden Cudgel.

If you combine Dragon's Dream and Purple Hermit, you will have the effect of Qimen Dunjia.

In terms of transformation and treatment, the Crazy Diamond and Gold Experience may not be inferior to Feng Hou Qi Men and Shuang Quan Shou...

The Taoist priest has fifteen substitutes, and he can roam freely throughout the entire region.

That year, a true immortal emerged from the fake Xuanmen sect, a true invincible emerged from the Celestial Master's Mansion, and a true saint emerged from the den of villains.

That year, a half-immortal named Qing Banxian emerged from the black soil.

If I possess all supernatural powers and lack nothing, how can you know that I am not a true immortal?

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Currently, the world's top games include: Under One Person, Bad Guys, and Mr. Amazing China...

Chapter 1 Yuzhou Bangzi Opera from Beyond the Pass

The wind was gentle and the moon was bright; starlight permeated the night.

"Whoosh—!"

A high-pitched note, sharp as a tear in silk, suddenly pierced the deathly silence, like a silver bottle exploding or a crane crying in the sky, startling the birds roosting on the eaves into a flurry of flight.

The suona sound echoed and swirled in a corner of the village late at night, yet it was also wrapped in a muffled sound like a drum, as if steel needles wrapped in copper were piercing the listener's skull one after another.

Upon closer inspection, it was discovered that the sound of the suona drum did not seem to be produced by any instrument. Although the volume was not loud, each sound was clear and resonant.

The tone was sometimes as rousing as the clash of swords and the roar of horses, and sometimes as murmuring and echoing as a secluded spring.

Following this eerie rhythm, one can see a lonely, abandoned old house standing at the end of the village road, with faint traces of slogans from half a century still remaining on the peeling walls.

"To get rich, build roads first, have fewer children and plant more trees."

The hour of Zi (11 PM - 1 AM) has passed; it is the time when Yin and Yang intersect.

The old house's wooden door was ajar, and shadowy figures could be vaguely seen moving inside, but not a single light was visible.

The singing voice drifting from the dilapidated window lattice grew ever brighter. Pushing open the door, one could see dozens of rectangular wooden benches arranged neatly, yet all were empty, waiting to be played.

Spiderwebs swayed among the high beams and pillars, and on the stage where gongs and drums should have been deafening, only a dark shadow swayed uncertainly like a cattail.

The object's features were indistinct, yet it swayed slightly with the rhythm, like a faithful spectator.

But the one who actually spoke was the seven-foot-tall boy sitting on the first row of long wooden tables below the stage.

He used the old wooden table, gnawed by insects and rats, as a stage. He dangled one leg in the air and swayed back and forth, holding a mottled Wenwang drum in his left hand and gently tapping it on his knee. The suona sound bursting from his throat pierced the clouds and split rocks.

When the moonlight followed the sound, it shone through the broken window and revealed his composed profile, casting a slender shadow in the dust.

With a shadow, the person suddenly seemed more lively.

"Tick tock..."

The drumbeats suddenly shifted to a rapid pace.

The young man suddenly opened his mouth, his voice carrying the crisp chill of the wind and snow beyond the Great Wall, and the heroic spirit of galloping on horseback, each word resounding in the ears.

"Yang Yanzhao burst into laughter upon hearing this!"

At that very moment, the continuous suona sound came to an abrupt halt.

It turns out that the chilling melody was entirely imitated by the boy's lips.

For a boy of his age, this alone is quite a skill.

If you put it on the street in the past, it would have been enough to attract cheers and applause.

The boy's impromptu speech was as clear as pearls falling onto a jade plate, and the drumbeats in his hands were like horses' hooves shattering an icy river.

"Your Majesty, the Eighth Prince, you must listen carefully. Back then, on the Golden Sands Beach, a great battle took place!"

When he sang "The Great Battle Before the Golden Sands," his head swayed with the rhythm, and his hair shimmered like broken silver in the hazy light.

“We, the Yang family father and sons, have lost our lives! My eldest brother impersonated you, the King of Song, and died; my second brother impersonated you, the Emperor, and died in the underworld…”

That voice, with its twists and turns, conveyed the tragic end of a hero, yet in its bright and humorous moments, it also revealed the unbridled spirit unique to a young man.

"it is good!"

As the final paragraph ended, the lingering echoes of the music still resonated, and suddenly, clear, resounding cheers erupted from the shadows on the stage:

"The melody is as soaring as a pine tree emerging from a ravine, and the lyrics are as straightforward as a sharp knife cutting through hemp. The spirit and charm are perfectly matched, making it an excellent piece for warming up the audience and attracting guests with a captivating performance."

As the saying goes, the layman sees the spectacle, while the expert sees the details.

Back then, she was a well-trained and somewhat famous female impersonator, and her words naturally carried a certain level of sophistication.

This child had only studied with her for two years, yet he was already fluent and capable, showing early promise.

Although she could tell that the young man had changed some of her singing style and lyrics, she was even more amazed by the talent of this unorthodox approach.

People often refer to indescribable liking as a "feeling".

There was something about this boy that was hard to describe.

Upon hearing this, the young man calmly rose, stood directly on the table, and performed a traditional greeting towards the stage:

"Master, you're amazing."

He thought to himself that the rhythm he had just used had been incorporated into the singing style in short films of later generations.

It was created to adapt to the fast-paced, fragmented lifestyle of people in the future.

Compared to the previous singing style that had a beginning and an end, isn't that more appealing?

As Qinghe Miao stood up, his gaze swept across the empty front stage.

There's a platform about fifty centimeters high there, with two or three small steps below it.

Standing at the height of the table, facing the figure on the stage in silence, he was still a head shorter than her.

"I've said it countless times, there's no need to call me master."

Faced with Qing Hemiao's extremely respectful manner, the ethereal black shadow on the stage swayed gently, and black mist poured out like quicksilver, gradually outlining an elegant figure.

The facial features finally began to take shape, and two flowing sleeves fell silently from the dark arms.

"You are the most talented person I have ever seen in my life. It would not be an exaggeration to say that you are the reincarnation of the God of Literature."

Her voice was clear and cold, like shattered jade striking a chime:

“What can I, a mere actor, teach? Two years ago, you were the one who barged into this mess of broken bricks and tiles, saying you wanted to learn Yuzhou Bangzi opera.”

It's just some singing techniques and melodies. It's your natural talent and daily hard work that have brought you to where you are today. Now you're even innovating and bringing new life to the art; you truly are a genius.

On the contrary, she should thank this person for his companionship over the past two years, which has kept her from becoming too dull after regaining her senses.

“One who imparts knowledge, teaches skills, and resolves doubts can be a teacher.”

Qinghe Miao remained extremely respectful in his manners.

“My master taught me a skill that will allow me to earn money and support my family in the future, so I naturally deserve this title.”

"You young man..."

The woman's voice carried a hint of helplessness:

"You could be studying properly now, which is the right path. Why bother learning this lowly profession of mine?"

"Master, you don't know this."

Upon hearing this, Qinghe Miao immediately frowned:

"When everyone on the street is educated in the future, the competition will be fierce. On the contrary, skills like singing Bangzi opera will no longer be looked down upon. Moreover, with the rise of something called 'the internet,' people can earn money from home with their skills!"

He held the King Wen Drum upside down and bowed with his hands clasped:

"I might rely on your cooking skills to make a living in the future, so I should at least call you 'Master'."

Those on stage were also moved upon hearing this.

After a moment of silence, unable to imagine such a scene no matter how hard he tried, he gave up and abruptly spoke, letting out a soft sigh:

"Pity."

"What's a pity?"

"It's a pity your ambitions lie elsewhere. You have made great progress in both Qi cultivation and literature, and your future is bright. You are truly an extraordinary person."

With flowing sleeves, the person on the stage, though lacking clearly defined features, seemed to roll their eyes and say meaningfully:

"Otherwise, I might actually be able to train a world-famous star."

He's more famous than his plays, the kind of person who's the pillar of an entire genre.

Before the boy could respond, she waved her wide sleeves:

"Alright, that's all for today's lessons. It's getting dark, so if you don't have anything else to do, head home early."

"There's no other way. The skills my master taught me are enough to make a living, but not enough to ensure I can stay safe and avoid trouble."

Qinghe Miao smiled and sat back down at the table:

"The students haven't sung enough today, Master, why don't you tell us some stories about your life?"

"It's been said to death over and over again, what's there to say?"

The figure on the stage paused, then sighed softly and said...

Qinghe Miao remained seated at the old table, her legs dangling in the air, striking a stubborn pose as if she wouldn't leave unless she was told to.

Seeing his insistence, the figure had no choice but to recount the past events that he had told countless times before.

Chapter 2 Spicy Red Peppers

It turns out that the figure on this dilapidated rooftop was a man who had followed the opera troupe leader from Yuzhou all the way to the Northeast.

They received invaluable instruction from the troupe leader and senior members, who taught them word by word and guided them through rigorous practice.

The opera troupe gradually took root in the icy and snowy land and even made a name for itself, becoming quite popular for a time.

At their peak, even General Zhang invited them to perform at his private gatherings.

pity......

Later, war broke out, and in the chaos of war, human life was as cheap as grass.

She died so simply, without even remembering her own name or how she ended up like this.

I vaguely remember that there was often a Taoist priest-style spectator in the opera troupe who loved to sit in the first row and listen to her performance as a female lead.

When the song reaches a particularly exciting part, he always nods slightly.

Just as she was struck by misfortune, the old Taoist priest appeared in time, brought her soul to this location, and set up an array.

They said that because she had not yet exhausted her talents, this formation could temporarily protect her soul from perish.

The old Taoist priest said that he would find a way to hold a proper Buddhist ceremony on a chosen day to send her off on her final journey.

Later, the old Taoist priest left, but never returned.

Given the chaotic situation back then, he probably perished in the chaos.

She then lay in eternal sleep, unaware of the passage of time.

It wasn't until the formation had been neglected and weakened over the past two years that she slowly awoke, only to find that her soul and body were deteriorating day by day.

Because in the anime world called "Under One Person", although the soul can retain its senses after leaving the body, it cannot escape the fate of gradually dissipating.

Ordinary ghosts merely repeat mechanical behaviors due to their obsessions; for someone like her to retain their intelligence for so long, it must be due to a great deal of coincidence and opportunity.