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

Qinghe Miao, carrying some items, came out from inside and greeted the crowd with a smile:

"You haven't eaten yet?"

The disaster victims looked at each other, muttering to themselves:

Isn't the question posed by the Taoist priest quite obvious?

But they dared not be negligent on the surface. Immediately, some quick-witted disaster victims moved aside, eagerly making room closer to the fire, and flatteringly said:

"Master, you jest. We ordinary people are no match for your profound Taoist arts..."

That statement does have some truth to it.

They had almost never seen any cooking smoke coming from the Taoist temple.

Everyone discussed it in the comments section. If it weren't for someone, they would definitely have seen Qinghe Miao clearly eating and drinking.

People were starting to wonder if this Taoist priest was the legendary otherworldly being.

Even the daily rations are rarely seen by anyone as to where they come from.

Many people almost thought it was created by the Taoist priest.

"What profound Taoist magic? I'm just an ordinary person, merely a lucky person who took advantage of being born extraordinary."

Qinghe Miao waved his hand.

Without being polite, I walked to the spot that had been given up and found a relatively clean and flat stone to sit down.

I placed the plastic bag and bottle I was carrying at my feet and felt the chill in the air.

Yes, winter in Hebei is indeed warmer than the biting winds of my hometown in the Northeast.

No wonder so many people want to go south to capture the dragon.

"Today is New Year's Day. I have nothing to do, so I might as well do something auspicious and have some fun with everyone."

He looked around, then pointed to a bare old tree not far away, with a lone, abandoned nest of some kind of bird hanging from its branches, and said loudly:

"See that bird's nest? Let's play an easy game. Starting from here, no one can get any further than where I'm sitting. Whoever can hit that bird's nest with anything is the one who wins."

"No need to smash it, just touch it and grab a handful. There are some small fruits and candies in here; whatever you grab is what you get."

As he spoke, he patted the plastic bag at his feet.

"If someone could step back five paces, they could still smash into that bird's nest..."

Seeing the interest ignited in some people's eyes, Qinghe Miao paused, shook the wine bottle beside him, and added:

"Besides grabbing a handful, there's also a glass of light liquor to taste! I'll cover the stakes. Anyone interested in trying their luck? Just treat it as a game."

The crowd was silent for a moment, then a buzz of discussion arose.

Small fruits, candy! And wine!

For them, who often go hungry, this was an irresistible temptation.

"I'll do it!"

After a moment's hesitation, some bold men or those confident in their accuracy stepped forward.

Pick up a suitable stone or clod of frozen soil from the ground, stand at the distance Qinghe Miao gestured, and throw it with all your might towards the bird's nest.

Chapter 50 Mountain Stronghold

"Whoosh—smack!"

The stone veered off course and hit the tree trunk.

"Oh dear, so close!"

Another person has made a mistake.

Several people tried in succession, but none of them succeeded. The most recent one only managed to make the branch where the bird's nest was located sway.

Until a thin young man pursed his lips, glanced at it again and again, and then suddenly threw a flat stone in his hand!

The stone traced an arc.

With a "thump".

It clearly grazed the edge of the bird's nest, causing it to shake violently and several dry grasses to fall down.

"Medium! In the middle!"

The crowd erupted in cheers.

Qinghe Miao also clapped his hands with a smile:

"Great! This guy's got it right! Come on, cash in your winnings!"

He opened the plastic bag and gestured for the young man to reach out.

The man was so nervous that his face was trembling.

He first rubbed the tattered clothes vigorously, then looked at the two bags of peanuts and melon seeds, both mixed with sugar, and tried to distinguish them.

He took a deep breath, picked out the larger-looking peanuts, and reached his hand inside.

When he pulled his hand out, his five fingers were pressed together, and he grabbed as much as he could!

"Whoosh—!"

Seeing the real thing in person and being able to actually get your hands on it made the atmosphere among the crowd even more enthusiastic!

Everyone got involved, scrambling to find suitable "ammunition" on the ground. Some even started pushing and shoving to grab a stone of the right shape.

That unnamed bird's nest has really suffered today.

It was constantly being pelted by stones and clods of earth flying from all directions, swaying left and right on the branch as if it would fall apart at any moment.

Every now and then someone would hit the prize, letting out an excited shout, and then run happily to Qing Hemiao, grabbing a handful of prizes from the bag as instructed.

There was even a man with astonishing arm strength.

After retreating five steps, a stone hit him.

Under the envious gazes of everyone, he not only grabbed a handful of food, but also managed to get a cup of spicy baijiu from Qinghe Miao.

He tilted his head back and drank it all in one gulp.

It was so spicy that I grimaced and felt a chill run down my spine; for a moment, I felt as if I had drunk some kind of poison.

But her face was flushed, which drew cheers from the crowd.

Although it was Qinghe Miao who started it all.

But seeing their jubilation, Qinghe Miao was also quite surprised. Infected by their joy, he patted his thigh and hummed softly to the beat:

"No, it is not so. I am filled with sorrow. I recall the King of Wagang, who was content with his position. The flying dragon hat I wore was on my head. The apricot-yellow python robe came from overseas..."

The piece he sang was not a traditional Henan opera aria.

Instead, it was the traditional Peking Opera piece "Duan Mi Jian" that I heard online in later generations.

Also known as "Double Throw to Tang", "Double Arrows", and "Silver Palace Mountain".

This story has been passed down in many opera genres, including Sichuan Opera, Gui Opera, Han Opera, Hui Opera, Xiang Opera, and Yunnan Opera.

It tells the story of Li Mi, the leader of Wagang Village at the end of the Sui Dynasty, who lost popular support due to suspicion. Qin Qiong, Xu Ji and others successively surrendered to the Tang Dynasty, and only Wang Bodang followed him.

At Wang Bodang's urging, Li Mi dispersed his followers, surrendered to the Tang Dynasty, was granted a royal title, and married Princess Heyang.

The story goes that Li Mi later revived his rebellious intentions, and both of them were killed by a hail of arrows.

Now, however, the Tang Dynasty has just passed away, and the Five Dynasties and Ten Kingdoms period has entered its first era of six kingdoms.

Indeed, at that time, just like now.

Anyway, no one around had heard the original version, they just thought the tune was fresh and pleasant to listen to, and it had a unique flavor when combined with the Taoist priest's leisurely patting of his leg.

Many people looked at him with sparkling eyes.

Finally, after finishing the meal, Qinghe Miao distributed all the remaining candy in the bag to the children watching, which caused a small cheer and scramble.

Sunflower seeds and peanuts were shared equally among everyone as an "extra meal."

Only that bottle of wine was almost empty.

He didn't offer any more drinks. Instead, he opened the bottle and, amidst the regretful looks of the crowd, poured the remaining liquor into the blazing fire.

"call--!"

The flames suddenly shot up, releasing even more heat as the alcohol vapors rose.

This thing is fine to do, just have some fun.

Especially considering their current situation.

Living a life of debauchery and decadence is certainly enjoyable.

But tomorrow he might not be able to get up and lose his life in a daze.

It's not worth it for a drink.

In the harsh, cold lands beyond the Great Wall, this kind of thing used to be commonplace; there were many such examples on the streets during winter.

Even if it means dying indirectly at his hands, I don't want to die.

……

Huang Wulang truly lived up to his reputation as someone with a family business in ancient times; he was indeed punctual.

He had long ago gathered his capable family members and brought together the Mohanwuyan clan, who were cooperating with Qinghe Miao.

These people were also quite tempted by the potential benefits.

They were quickly convinced.

So, just over ten days after the end of the year, at night...

The cold moonlight shone brightly on the rolling mountains, as if covered with a layer of frost.

The mountain wind howled through the valley, carrying a biting chill, swirling up withered grass and snowflakes.

Led by Huang Wulang's men, Qinghe Miao and more than sixty young men came all the way and silently lay in ambush behind a sheltered hill.

Before setting off, Qinghe Miao watched as these people inspected the spears, swords, and bowstrings one by one inside the fortress.

There are just a few less Jiaju (甲具).

However, many members of the Huang family wore homemade rattan armor.

I heard that it is made by repeatedly weaving old vines soaked in tung oil, making it tight and solid, no less than ordinary leather armor.

Qinghe Miao was shocked.

These are all genuine young and middle-aged combatants.

As expected of a chaotic ancient era, even a local strongman could muster such skilled men with such equipment.

Even so, this was Huang Wulang's doing to guard against Qing Hemiao.

Some troops and equipment were left behind to guard the fortress.

"Taoist Master, please take a look."

Huang Wulang lowered his voice and led Qing Hemiao to lie down on the edge of the hill, pointing downwards.

A narrow mountain road winds its way through the mountainside, with steep slopes that are almost sheer cliffs on the outside, full of jagged rocks and dense shrubs.

If one accidentally slips and falls, even if one doesn't die, it will be extremely difficult to climb back up in a short time, and the commotion will inevitably alert the target not far away.

Looking along the direction the mountain road extends, about two miles away, in a mountain valley, one can vaguely see the outline of a wooden fence, with the dark shadows of several tall watchtowers standing tall.

Scattered among them were bright red campfires, which stood out against the dark night.

Voices and barking dogs drifted intermittently on the wind.

"That's the village of Luba Mountain."

Huang Wulang said in a low voice: