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

Pu Songlin became more and more excited as he listened.

This is a true immortal! Not a charlatan, not a charlatan pretending to be a god, but a truly capable and enlightened master!

After he finished taking notes, he closed the notebook and solemnly said to Wang Laosan.

"Shopkeeper, you saved my life today. I will remember this kindness."

"Hey, why bring this up?" Wang Laosan waved his hand. "If anyone should be thanking someone, it's the Taoist priest. If it weren't for him giving us this duster, we'd both be dead here today."

Pu Songlin nodded and looked at the feather duster.

The duster looked quite ordinary; the wooden handle was polished smooth, and the chicken feathers were somewhat faded.

But who would have thought that such an inconspicuous thing had just annihilated two vengeful ghosts?

"Shopkeeper, may I take a look at this duster?"

Wang Laosan handed it over.

Pu Songlin carefully took it and examined it closely.

There were some faint patterns on the wooden handle, but they weren't very clear. He tried to wave it gently, but didn't feel anything special.

"It seems it's only effective for you, shopkeeper." Pu Songlin handed it back, "The Taoist priest bestowed it upon you because it's destined to be with you."

Wang Laosan took the duster, wiped it like a precious treasure, and put it back in its original place, offering it up carefully.

"From now on, this duster will be the store's prized possession," he said with a smile.

Its daybreak.

Pedestrians and carriages began to pass by on the official road.

Pu Songlin drank his third bowl of tea, paid for it, and picked up his book bag to leave.

"Shopkeeper, I need to get going," he said.

"I will write down what happened today so that more people will know that there really are gods and retribution in this world."

Wang Laosan escorted him to the outside of the shed: "Mr. Pu, please be careful on your journey. If you happen to pass by again, feel free to come in for tea, it's free."

"must."

Pu Songlin bowed in farewell and walked eastward along the official road.

After walking a short distance, he couldn't help but look back.

Smoke rose from the teahouse in the morning light. Wang Laosan was tidying up the tables and chairs, and the feather duster on the table was gently trembling in the breeze.

Ordinary, yet extraordinary.

Pu Songlin smiled, turned around, and continued on his way.

As he walked, he opened his notebook and wrote the title on a new page:

"Strange Tales from the Teahouse: The Tale of the Taoist Priest in Green Robes Presenting a Gift to Subdue Ghosts"

Then he began to recount his experiences of the day, from entering the teahouse at dawn to the appearance of the faceless ghost, and then the feather duster's power.

He has excellent writing skills, and his writing is so vivid and engaging that it makes the reader feel as if they are actually there.

At the end, he added a note:

"I have traveled all over the country for ten years, heard more than a hundred strange stories, and met dozens of extraordinary people. But I have never seen anyone like the Taoist priest in green robes who bestows supernatural powers upon ordinary people to help the common people without leaving his name."

There are true immortals in this world, living in seclusion, bestowing kindness without expecting anything in return—this is the true path. Old Wang's act of kindness in giving a meal earned him the protection of an immortal's treasure; is this not a case of good deeds being rewarded?

Therefore, this is recorded to advise people: Do not refrain from doing good because it is small, nor do evil because it is small. Are there no gods watching over us?

After writing, he closed the notebook and carefully placed it in his bosom.

Ahead, the official road winds its way towards an unknown distance.

Pu Songlin leaned on his bamboo cane, his steps light and quick.

He knew he had found another good story.

A story about gods, mortals, good karma, and retribution.

And there are many more stories like this in the world.

He wants to find them one by one, write them down, and pass them on.

To let future generations know that this world is more mysterious and more interesting than they imagined.

......

Inside the tea stall.

After tidying up, Wang Laosan sat down behind the counter to rest.

He looked at the feather duster on the table, thought for a moment, took it down, and carefully wiped it with a clean cloth.

Then, he bowed respectfully three times to the duster.

"Master Daoist... thank you for bestowing this treasure upon me."

"This old man has no special skills, all he knows is how to brew tea and steam cornbread. From now on, whenever a monk passes by, I will treat him to a meal for free, as a way of... as a way of accumulating some good karma for you."

He muttered to himself as he put the duster back in place.

Morning light streamed through the gaps in the roof, casting dappled shadows on the duster.

Those faded chicken feathers seemed to gleam faintly with gold in the light.

Of course, it may also be an illusion.

But Wang Laosan believed it wasn't true.

He believed that the Taoist priest in blue was a true immortal.

He believed the duster truly possessed magical powers.

He believes even more strongly that good deeds will be rewarded and evil deeds will be punished.

So, that morning, every customer who passed by the tea stall noticed that Wang Laosan's smile was exceptionally sincere, the tea exceptionally fragrant, and the cornbread exceptionally soft.

The feather duster remained quietly there.

It's as if they're protecting something.

It was as if they were waiting for something.

......

Heishan Town, the second day at dawn.

In the town's central square, Chi Yangzi stood on a makeshift platform, his faded Taoist robe fluttering slightly in the morning breeze.

The audience consisted of nearly half of the residents of Heishan Town, including men, women, and children, all of whom still bore the lingering fear of surviving a disaster.

But more than anything, there was a sense of awe for the spectacular "ten thousand swords returning to the source" phenomenon of last night.

"Fellow villagers," Chi Yangzi cleared his throat, his voice projected through his magic, clearly reaching everyone's ears.

"The evil spirits have been eliminated, and Black Mountain Town has returned to peace. However, if it weren't for Immortal Qingwei's righteous intervention and his supreme divine power to slay the Corpse King, this town would probably have become a living hell."

A buzz of discussion arose from the audience.

The scene that night was too shocking—countless swords flew out from each household, forming a river of swords, and finally transformed into a spiraling sword aura that annihilated the Corpse King.

Afterwards, all the weapons flew back to their original positions on their own, without any deviation.

Such methods are far beyond the comprehension of ordinary people.

"We have no way to repay the Immortal's great kindness!"

In the crowd, an elderly man with white hair knelt down tremblingly; it was none other than Mr. Li, a highly respected elder in the town.

"This old man proposes that a shrine or temple be built in honor of the Immortal Qingwei, with incense offered throughout the year to express gratitude for saving my life!"

This statement was met with widespread agreement.

"That's how it should be!"

"My kitchen knife flew out of its shell, but when it came back, the blade was even shinier. It must have been imbued with magical energy!"

"Bullshit! Those were swords flying around that night, how did your knife fly out like that!" A head guard, holding a large knife, argued, his face flushed.

"My son had a fever that night. I held him and watched from the window. After the sword light flashed, the fever subsided. It was the protection of a celestial being!"

"Um...wife, didn't we give the child medicine that night?"

"Oh! You want to argue with me? It's clearly a blessing from a celestial being!"

......

Chi Yangzi looked at the excited crowd below the stage, his heart filled with mixed feelings.

He knew better than anyone how terrifying Ye Qingfeng's "Ten Thousand Swords Return to Flow" was.

That is something that no ordinary cultivator could use.

Even a master with a century of cultivation might not be able to control ten thousand swords so effortlessly and return them precisely afterward.

"Fellow villagers, please be quiet." Chi Yangzi raised his hand and gestured, "I can take care of the matter of building the temple."

However, the immortal travels far and wide and dislikes worldly rituals; therefore, this temple should be quiet and simple.

"The Taoist priest is right!" Zhou Fu, the steward of the Zhou family, squeezed to the front of the stage and echoed loudly.

"My master has decreed that the Zhou family will bear all the costs of building the temple, including the money, land, and materials! We only ask that the immortal accept our humble offering from Black Mountain Town!"

Although Zhou Yongfu fainted twice that night from fright, after waking up and hearing the whole story, he immediately realized that this was an opportunity for the Zhou family to advance further.

To be able to form a bond with such a divine being is something that money can't buy.