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

He recognized the place.

Deep in the Ten Thousand Mountains, near the inner perimeter, lies a desolate mountain range, hundreds of miles away from his original location.

There are no roads, no people, and even wild animals don't want to come here.

He moved Huaiyin Village here, a place he himself rarely visits.

After all, not many people come here.

His ghost market needs people to get in, right?

Old Man Huai exhaled a long breath, which condensed into white mist in the cold air, drifted for a moment, and then dissipated.

He leaned against the old locust tree, closed his eyes for a while, and waited for the trembling to subside before opening them again.

The old locust tree is still there, the closed doors are still there, and the extinguished lanterns are still there.

The square is still there, the stone piers are still there, and Old Liu's melon stall is still there, but the melons are rotten, lying on the stall, with a pool of black liquid flowing out.

Everything is still there, just not in the same place anymore.

He stood up, his legs still a little weak, but he was able to stand.

He gathered his disheveled hair behind his head, secured it with a broken twig, straightened his tattered clothes, and patted the dirt off his body.

Then he walked to the center of the square, stood under the old locust tree, and spoke.

"Come out, all of you." His voice wasn't loud, but it carried far in the empty village. "Come out, all of you, come out."

The doors opened one by one.

The eyes that had been hidden behind the door emerged from the darkness, one by one.

They emerged from the shops, from the alleyways, and from the shadows of the corners.

There were peddlers carrying loads, women leading children, old men fanning themselves, and children hopping and skipping.

Their faces were still blurry, their heels were still dangling, but their movements were much slower than before, as if they had just woken up from a long dream and were not yet fully awake.

They walked into the square, surrounded the old locust tree, and looked at the old man.

Old Man Huai stood among them, his thin body swaying slightly in the night breeze.

His face was very pale, as white as paper, but his eyes were very bright, as bright as two lamps.

He glanced around and waited until all the ghosts had arrived before speaking.

"That person, that Taoist priest, you saw him." His voice was low and deep, like the muffled sound of a stone thrown into deep water.

"He's not here to cause trouble, he's here to kill us. Old Zhao is dead, the oil seller is dead, and the little devil is dead too. Who's next? It's me, it's you, it's everyone in this village."

No ghosts spoke.

They all knew; they all saw.

Those lightning bolts, those ashes, those companions who vanished before they could even scream.

"I've run away with you all." Old Man Huai's voice rose a little, carrying a suppressed excitement that he hadn't felt in a long time.

"I dug the entire village out from under that man's feet, tore open space, and moved it here. Do you know what that means?"

Several ghosts looked at each other, bewildered.

The old man's lips curled up.

An irrepressible, slightly smug smile.

"Spatial magic. Even powerful beings may not possess this ability. My life wasn't something I picked up; I earned it myself."

He stretched out a hand, his fingers spread, and the tender buds at his fingertips, which had not yet fully retracted, trembled slightly in the air.

"Look at these roots, these tendrils. They can uproot the village from the ground, tear open space, and carry you all to safety."

No matter how capable that person is, could he possibly track us all the way here? He can't. He doesn't even know where we are.

As he spoke, the old man burst into wild laughter, seemingly releasing his pent-up fear.

A low, suppressed sound rang out in the square.

It wasn't talking; it was the ghosts whispering and talking amongst themselves.

There was something in their voices, something indescribable, something that sent chills down your spine.

Old Man Huai did not notice.

He kept talking, becoming more and more excited, his voice growing louder and louder.

"I've lived in this village for hundreds of years and never run away before. But today, I did. I don't feel ashamed. Living is more important than anything else. That person doesn't understand this principle."

He thought he was invincible, that he could kill whomever he wanted. But he was wrong. He couldn't kill me. He didn't even know where I was.

Old Man Huai's laughter echoed across the empty square.

He was laughing when he suddenly realized something was wrong.

The ghosts were still watching him, but their expressions were strange.

Their faces were still blurry, but he could see what was hidden in that blurriness—fear, the kind of fear one feels when seeing something extremely terrifying.

It wasn't facing him, it was facing behind him.

One or two ghosts had already knelt down, not to him, but to something behind him.

The old man's laughter stopped.

He suddenly felt a chill down his back; it wasn't from the wind, but rather a chill that seemed to seep into his bones.

His neck stiffened; he tried to turn his head, but his head wouldn't obey him.

His body was telling him, "Don't turn back, don't turn back, turning back will mean the end."

But he still turned around.

A voice came from behind him, neither too loud nor too soft, neither too fast nor too slow, carrying an indescribable leisure.

He recognized that voice; it had just been there, in his inn, right in front of him.

"They're all here. That's great, I don't have to look for them one by one."

Old Man Huai saw that bluish-gray figure.

He stood under the old locust tree, on its roots, in the very spot where the old man who owned the locust tree had just stood.

He stood with his hands behind his back, head tilted back, looking at the canopy of the old locust tree.

No one knows when he arrived, and no one knows how he got there.

He was there, as if he had been there from the very beginning.

Old Man Huai's legs went weak, and he had to hold onto a stone block next to him to keep from falling.

His mouth was open, and he was making a "hoarse" sound in his throat, as if something was stuck there that he couldn't spit out or swallow.

"You—how did you—"

He didn't finish speaking.

He knew he didn't need to ask anymore.

The answer was right in front of him.

That person possesses spatial abilities, but those abilities are larger, stronger, and deeper than his.

He can tear through space, and so can that person.

He could only lead the village, while the other person could follow the village.

He never escaped from the beginning; he remained in that person's grasp the whole time.

Old Man Huai, supporting himself on the stone pier, slowly slid down and collapsed to the ground.

His eyes were fixed on the man, and he opened his mouth several times, but he couldn't utter a single word.

Saying harsh words?

Useless.

beg for mercy?

didn't work either.

He had seen how this person treated Old Zhao, how he treated the oil seller, and how he treated that little devil.

He won't let him go.

Ye Qingfeng lowered his head and looked at Huai Weng, who was slumped on the ground. He stared for a few moments, then looked away and swept his gaze over the strange figures surrounding the square.

"Your village is quite fast."