Can You Escape the Buddha's Palm?

"Wang Xiaopeng, summoning souls again?"

The moment little Wang Xiaopeng finished speaking, a teasing voice rang out behind him.

Four or five boys about Wang Xiaopeng's age walked up behind him, grinning as they looked at the candles and chopsticks arranged on the ground.

They all came from the same village as Wang Xiaopeng and knew him well.

Three years ago.

Wang Xiaopeng's father, Wang Jinhui, had been fishing in the river at night when a gust of wind swept him off the boat and into the water. He had vanished without a trace afterward.

Some said Wang Jinhui had encountered a water ghost and been dragged into the river by it, which was why he had disappeared forever.

Others said Wang Jinhui had become tangled in his own fishing net and could not make it ashore, ultimately drowning alive.

No matter what, Wang Jinhui had completely vanished from the village.

And as his son, Wang Xiaopeng had always waited for Wang Jinhui's return.

Even though he knew perfectly well that Wang Jinhui was dead, Wang Xiaopeng had persistently tried to summon Wang Jinhui to meet him through soul-summoning arts.

For three years, he had come to the riverbank almost every night and performed the same soul-summoning ritual.

Over time, he became famous throughout the village. Everyone knew that he wanted to find Wang Jinhui through soul summoning.

Of course, in everyone's eyes, his soul summoning did not work at all. It was nothing more than children playing house.

Thus, practically the entire village mocked Wang Xiaopeng.

Especially children his own age, who came to ridicule him from time to time for their own amusement.

Wang Xiaopeng turned around and nodded with a serious expression.

"Yes. Dad said I have the gift of communicating with spirits, and this soul-summoning art