The second nine, the last day of the year.
The funeral industry on Underground Street held a fire prevention and misfortune-clearing drill; apart from the immortals who left early, all the Galloping Immortal disciples and locals cooperated by leaving the street.
Even the fearless members of the Red-clad Sect at the end of the street ran out with them.
The reason was nothing other than suddenly hearing the sound of suonas and flutes in the night, accompanied by mournful cries, the chirping of mice, and a large flock of crows cawing as they flew from the beginning to the end of the street.
When the mute carpenter opened the door of the carpentry shop, he saw a procession of paperman funeral marchers.
Those papermen had heads like cauldrons, over ten feet tall, wearing conical hats made of paper, draped in paper quilts, moving as if walking on wind and fog, landing without a sound.
The mute carpenter was horrified!