Audience

With the Fierce Ghost gone, it was as though a storm had passed, and everything returned to calm. Only the indelible marks upon the stage told of the ferocity of the battle just now.

Zhou Sheng suddenly closed his eyes.

In his mind, as the Fierce Ghost dissipated, an ancient, mottled tortoiseshell began to shine. The mysterious crisscrossing cracks upon it seemed to foretell some unfathomable heavenly secret.

At the lower right corner of the tortoiseshell were two ancient, profound characters, as though the clear way of Heaven lay entirely within them.

"Luo Shu."

This was his greatest secret. Not even Master, who had taught him Yin Opera for sixteen years, knew of it.

Both his previous life and this one had begun because of this mysterious tortoiseshell.

"Marquis Huan... Danshan—"

Seeing that the dust had settled, Master Wu wanted to step down from the stage and speak with Zhou Sheng. Yet what answered him was a fierce, razor-sharp gaze.

Marquis Huan glared in fury, and the sheer force of his Killing Intent made Master Wu tremble in fear.

Upon the stage, Zhou Sheng stood tall and unwavering, like a black-iron pagoda suppressing a nether spring. A moment later, he planted his steps to steady heaven and earth, fiercely flung the hem of his robe in the "Kicking Python" pose, then raised one arm to the heavens and drove the Snake Spear upside down into the ground.

"Bright are heaven and earth! Righteousness shall—endure!"

"The villain has been slain, the Stage Breaking—has succeeded!"

Every word rang like a golden hammer striking a chime, making everyone's hearts quiver.

They immediately realized that Zhou Sheng wanted them to work with him and finish this Stage Breaking opera.

A beginning and an end.

Xiao Shan, the Martial Actor dressed as a Spirit Official, reacted fastest. He immediately struck a "Searching the Sea, Gazing at the Moon" pose and recited in an operatic voice:

"Why need a Vajra's wrath to subdue demons? One spear planted, and ten thousand families know peace! Say not men of Yan are merely reckless; bowing low, they hold aloft a sky of worldly peace!"

"The Stage Breaking has succeeded. Please have Marquis Huan return to his place!"

Apart from the unconscious Green-Robed Actress, everyone else hurriedly joined in and sang a few lines. Yet they all performed poorly, clearly far from their usual standards.

Only after withdrawing his pose did Zhou Sheng carry the Snake Spear and stride away. He passed through the curtain marked "Entering the Minister" and entered backstage.

Only then could this Stage Breaking opera be considered truly over.

Everyone finally let out long breaths, their hearts still pounding with lingering fear, and immediately went to tend to the unconscious Green-Robed Actress.

Backstage, before a bronze mirror, Zhou Sheng was removing his makeup.

As clean water washed over him again and again, a handsome, refined face gradually emerged, while his pagoda-like body swiftly returned to normal.

The divine strength to tear tigers and leopards apart barehanded, martial skills tempered through a thousand hammerings, and towering Killing Intent all faded with it.

Zhou Sheng rubbed his temples, unable to hide the exhaustion on his face.

The deeper he entered the role, the greater his skill became—but the greater the toll on his mind and body as well. Had the female ghost endured a few more exchanges just now, he likely would have been the first to collapse.

His Dao cultivation was still too shallow.

If he had not first played Lord Bao and taken the chance to scatter the altar's incense ash over the female ghost, grievously wounding her, it truly would have been hard to say who would live and who would die.

He hoped this gain would help raise his Dao cultivation somewhat.

"Danshan, you've worked hard. Wipe your face."

Master Wu hurriedly offered him a clean silk handkerchief, his expression respectful, grateful, and faintly awed.

Zhou Sheng wiped his face, then looked at himself in the bronze mirror.

His eyes still held faint threads of crimson, as though the blood vessels in his eyeballs had burst slightly. His whole spirit seemed utterly drained.

As if he had gone several days and nights without sleep.

Playing Marquis Huan really could go too far in the blink of an eye. Master had been right after all—if one's Dao cultivation was insufficient, it was best not to force a hard fight.

Seeing Zhou Sheng stare silently into the bronze mirror, Master Wu seemed to think of something and nervously asked, "Danshan, is there something wrong with this bronze mirror?"

"Every time Jinhua took the stage to perform when she was alive, she put on her makeup before this mirror. Could some lingering soul remain behind, hiding in it?"

Zhou Sheng was somewhat taken aback. Then he shook his head and smiled. "There's nothing wrong with the bronze mirror."

Master Wu nodded, but still made up his mind to replace it with a new one tomorrow, lest it bring bad luck.

Zhou Sheng could guess what he was thinking. For some reason, a sudden melancholy rose in his heart.

Earlier, he had entered the role too deeply. His murderous nature and Killing Intent had left him unmoved by anything outside himself. Now that he had regained clarity, he recalled Shen Jinhua's words before her soul scattered.

At first, she had cursed and screamed herself hoarse. But as her yin energy continued to dissipate, she gradually calmed instead.

Before she vanished, tears streaming down her face, she sang a passage.

"You say the cuckoo tears I weep in opera are feigned—how could you know that the blade upon this stage... was truly cold?"

"Marquis Huan! With your hand raised and blade brought down...

Can you tell clearly—

Which lock of black hair bound Dou E?

Which drop of blood was pierced through by this servant's soul?"

Shen Jinhua truly deserved her fame as the leading star of the Yangcheng opera troupe. Thinking back on it now, even Zhou Sheng was moved by the mournful, heartrending notes of her singing, and lamented the loss of an outstanding Green-Robed Actress.

She had left behind her final swan song for this world.

"Since June snow cannot be permitted to cover these innocent bones—

Why make me spend half a life in painted face and powder... playing Dou E..."

This was not Dou E's accusation, but Shen Jinhua's plea for justice.

Dou E still had blood splashing upon white silk, snow falling in June, and three years of drought to proclaim her grievance. But Shen Jinhua—what did she have?

To that question, Zhou Sheng had only silence.

Having studied opera for sixteen years, he understood all too well how difficult this road was. How many beatings and hardships must one endure before becoming a star?

Yet even after becoming a star, in this man-eating world, what did it amount to?

"Danshan, this is a small token of my appreciation. Please don't think it too little..."

Master Wu took out a tray bearing five silver ingots, ten taels each—a total of fifty taels of silver.

For an opera troupe that had been shut down for so long and was already stretched thin, this was no small expense.

Zhou Sheng had to admit that Master Wu was generous.

By this world's prices, those fifty taels of silver were roughly equivalent to over a hundred thousand yuan on Earth.

"Master Wu, did Shen Jinhua... have any family?"

"She did, but after taking the compensation, they all left. I heard they went to Yangzhou."

Zhou Sheng nodded, then accepted forty taels of silver and left one ingot behind.

"Leave these ten taels for that unconscious Green-Robed Actress. Help her buy more medicine to replenish her qi and blood."

The woman had been possessed by a ghostly entity, which had already damaged her vitality. Coupled with her miscarriage, she likely would not be able to perform for a long while.

Without these ten taels of silver, she would likely find it difficult even to survive.

Zhou Sheng could not stand by coldly and watch, so he left ten taels. But neither was he a saint, so he left only ten taels.

Neither too much nor too little. If she spent it carefully, it should be enough to help her weather this hardship.

"Danshan is truly righteous, worthy of being Old Master Yu's prized disciple!"

Master Wu hurriedly praised him.

Zhou Sheng merely gazed at him quietly, the lingering Killing Intent in his eyes flickering faintly.

"You understand the rules of Yin Opera. No one dares pocket our money."

Master Wu's smile froze, and he hurriedly nodded.

He really had harbored a few selfish thoughts just now, but under Zhou Sheng's warning, they vanished into thin air.

The evil ghost was gone. Once the troupe reopened, they could continue earning money. There was no need to provoke a Ghost Opera Performer over ten taels of silver.

He knew full well just how strange and dangerous those who performed Yin Opera could be.

Today, they could help you catch ghosts. Tomorrow, they could turn you into one.

To say nothing else, the blood on Old Master Yu's hands back then could not be washed clean even in a golden basin as large as a dou measure.

A short while later, Zhou Sheng walked out of backstage. The eyes of those around him were filled with awe and curiosity.

Many people tried to come forward and speak with him, but Zhou Sheng turned a deaf ear and walked straight toward the front of the stage.

The space below the stage was empty. There were no spectators at all.

Yet Zhou Sheng stopped before a seat toward the back on the right and clasped his fist in salute toward that empty place.

There was a trace of gravity in his calm voice.

And within that gravity hid a hint of... nervousness he had not even shown when facing the Fierce Ghost?

"Sir, the opera has ended, yet you have remained without leaving. Might you have some insight to offer?"