Chapter 189

I and Pangzi ran back with all our strength, but when we returned we realized we were still a step late. The second play in the theater shed had already begun, with no mishap, and shortly after the second play started, another accident just like the previous one occurred. When Pangzi and I got back, what met our eyes was a scene that could only be described as tragic.

The troupe's members collapsed on the stage, and the audience below fell into chaos; after a panic, many people gathered around the stage edge, constantly pointing and gossiping.

Obviously, after we chased the dwarf ghost out, something else came to cause trouble on the stage.

"Brother, hold on……" Pangzi rushed over to Song Lin's side and began bandaging the wounded.

Liu Guozhong stood to the side with a grim face; seeing Pangzi return, he frowned and demanded, "Xiaoqiang, didn't you say you'd already taken care of everything?"

"I'm telling you, our Liu family troupe won't perform this play! Hurry up, pack your bags and go back to Guangdong—you're not allowed to step into this muddy water again!" Liu Guozhong shouted angrily.

"Uncle…… I……" Pangzi lowered his head, stammering, unable to speak.

"Uncle Liu, actually we just went to chase whatever was causing mischief on the stage. Now we've figured out the cause and effect: it's because a killing god exists beneath the stage, so something emerges during the performance to wreak havoc and injure the troupe brothers." Under Pangzi's astonished gaze, I stepped forward, staring firmly at Liu Guozhong.

Yes, I was lying, concealing the truth from Liu Guozhong. Although I wanted to clarify the cause and effect of this matter, more importantly, I wanted the spirit and culture of resisting Japan to be passed down forever on every piece of land.

After eight years of war, we shed too much blood and tears. Countless men took up arms and rode to battle, fighting desperately on the battlefield; the cruelty there is something we, the later generations living in peace and prosperity, can never comprehend.

In Red Peace, this place is naturally a famous anti-Japanese hometown; it has produced countless generals and countless workers' and peasants' Red Army. Passion and fearlessness have long permeated the bones of the older generation; pride has already eroded every inch of land.

However, the descendants of the new generation may not necessarily remember this past, this history.

Some things, if hidden away, disappear; some spirit, if not reminded by external factors, in this world of rampant material desires, will soon be corroded by decadence. Someone must remember and pass it on for this spirit to endure forever.

After hearing my words, Liu Guozhong remained doubtful, staring at me and pressing: "What you say is true? You're not deceiving me?"

"True, that's how things turned out!" I nodded without hesitation, then altered the dwarf ghost's version. Using the pretext of a willow-wood tablet suppressing the evil spot in the theater, I hid the truth. I lied to Liu Guozhong, saying the stone tablet beneath the theater was a killer device, and that as long as we found that tablet beneath the theater, everything could be resolved naturally.

"Really? ……" Liu Guozhong remained doubtful.

I could only continue the act, putting on a show to deceive him, saying: "As long as you do as I say tomorrow, Uncle Liu will know the truth."

"Okay, tomorrow I'll do as you say, hoping this time no one gets hurt." Liu Guozhong staggered as he turned, took two steps, then turned again, sighed, and looked at me earnestly: "Remember, no matter when, you must protect yourselves well; if money is gone, it's gone, the performance can be skipped, but people must never come to harm."

Pangzi quickly nodded beside him, saying: "Uncle, don't worry, I and Hai Sheng both understand!"

After Liu Guozhong left, Pangzi quickly took out a silver needle and began treating the injured brothers of the troupe.

Pangzi glanced at me gratefully; I nodded slightly and lightly patted his shoulder—an exchange of looks that let us both understand each other's meaning.

"You tend to the brothers' injuries first; I'll go check beneath the stage," I whispered into Pangzi's ear, then hurried down from the stage.

I silently chanted the formula, formed the sword finger, opened my spiritual eyes and senses, and carefully examined every corner around me to see if I had missed any aura.

Yet there was no disturbance around; only the air's aura felt strange, giving me a sense of desolation, as if a huge stone were pressing heavily on my chest, making it hard to breathe.

This feeling came only after I opened my spiritual eyes and took something to enhance my spiritual perception; in other words, this phenomenon is unlikely ordinary, possibly related to spiritual bodies.

If Murong Jiaja were here, she might notice something! But Murong Jiaja is healing in the Spirit-Gathering Jade, having long cut off contact with the outside world, and Little Fat has overused the Fate-Penetrating Ability, still in a deep sleep.

Perhaps this strange aura in the air could bring me some new clues as well.

I just stood quietly at the edge of the stage, using my spiritual sense to carefully savor this strange air, hoping to discern some clues from it.

"Madman, step aside, don't scare the children"—just as I closed my eyes to quietly sense that lingering trace of special aura in the air, a string of villagers' curses came from beside me.

I opened my eyes toward the source of the sound, but involuntarily furrowed my brows.

Not far ahead, several villagers shoved aside an old man with white hair, while some children nearby picked up stones and hurled them at him.

Because the night was dark and the distance far, I initially couldn't see clearly; but as I approached, I realized the old man seemed like a madman—his clothes and trousers were ragged like a beggar's, grime coated his feet, his hair was disheveled, as if he hadn't washed in days.

Even from a distance, as I drew near I could smell a foul odor emanating from the old man, like a dead rat in the house.

The old man's mind seemed not quite normal; he held a stone and threw it back at the children attacking him, while shouting incoherent words that ordinary people could not understand.

"Stop it all……" I ran to the middle, waving my hand to halt the children still throwing stones. Even now I felt a bit angry. Even if he's a madman, you shouldn't treat him like this.

"Young man, I advise you to step aside quickly; this old man, when he goes mad, could kill someone," a woman protecting a child advised me.

I stared at her coldly: "I don't know about lives, I only want to ask you—is it really right to treat an old man like this? Won't you grow old too?"

Perhaps my icy gaze and sarcastic tone deeply provoked the woman; she snorted coldly, threw down a harsh word about good deeds going unrewarded, and led the child away.

After they walked away, I turned back, supported the mad old man, and tried to make my tone as gentle as possible.

I asked, "Old sir, are you alright? Where do you live? I'll take you home."

The mad old man ignored me, his gaze unfocused as he stared at the stage, muttering: "Wronged! A great injustice! Grievance, a great grievance!"

I followed his gaze in surprise and saw that the stage was just an ordinary stage, nothing strange about it.

"Old sir, what did you just say? A grievance? The anti-Japanese drama is like that, it's common… oh"—just as I turned my head, my shoulder felt a sharp pain; the mad old man seized the moment I turned and bit down hard on my shoulder.

"Damn, let go, hurry up and let go!" I strained to break free, shoving the mad old man away. My heart felt terrible—I had meant to do a good deed, yet I was suddenly bitten back. Moreover, the old man was quite old, so I dared not push him hard.

"Hahaha, I am a soldier, from the common people, I defeated the Japanese invaders, exterminated Chiang's bandit army!" Finally the old man loosened his grip. He then threw his head back and laughed loudly, afterwards singing the lyrics of the song "I Am a Soldier."

After the old man ran off, his tone suddenly changed again, and he began to sing…

"I want to go to school, never be late, love studying and loving work…"

His voice rang out, cheerful and lively, as he skipped and hopped away on quick steps.

Only I remained standing there foolishly, my lips twitching, my thoughts in disarray amid the wind…

This old man, his madness is too full of substance, too rhythmic…