Night.
The sun had just set.
The village was utterly silent.
The wind howled at the top of its lungs. Even ordinary mortals could smell the blood in it, and everyone was uneasy.
Still, the sight of the Daoists reassured them a little.
They all hid in their cellars.
As though taking shelter from a disaster.
Watching the villagers retreat into their cellars, Third Senior Brother acted again, writing a Talismanic Seals charm in his own blood on the Dharma Sword strapped to his back.
The sight of the drooling Ghosts and spirits appearing around him sent a chill through Third Senior Brother, but he had no choice.
He let out a long breath, and great masses of wind and cloud gathered around him.
At a rough glance,
his cultivation was in the upper reaches of the ninth rank. He could be considered quite talented.
Inside the house lay a Shroud Cloth.
A powerful stench of decay filled the entire room.
Clearly, the source of that stench lay beneath the Shroud Cloth.
A corpse that had been dead for some time.
Little Daoist Boy was a little nervous. Wearing a mask, he prepared for the ritual.
Throughout the entire ritual, no one could see his face.
If anyone saw it, something utterly terrifying would happen.
Little Daoist Boy did not know exactly what, but he knew that the temple's rules had all been paid for with human lives.
He had best obey them rather than try to be different.
Beside him were the newly arrived "Daoist acolytes," waiting to receive their registers.
These "acolytes" had black cloth over their eyes and hemp rope binding their hands and feet.
Rather than a register-conferral ceremony, the scene looked more like a "kidnapping."
His senior brothers had all grown practiced at this, but