The temple in Qingshi Town had been burned down, so a temporary wooden shed had been quickly erected for worship.
Deities, in the Mountain and Sea Realm, were simply too important.
Qingshi Town couldn't go a day without a god.
"Ugh... seems about right."
Suddenly, Wang Hao heard a series of piercing suona sounds and the clamor of noisy instruments coming from afar.
That suona sound was strangely eerie, like nails screeching on a chalkboard, driving people to distraction.
"Who's that, so annoying!" Old Wang shouted.
The noise immediately stopped.
Looking closely, there was a green-gray figure, about the size of a car, skulking behind Pan Hao and the others.
In the distance, he could still hear ghostly wails: "Mine, that is mine... woo woo... mine..."
"Mine! That's mine, you... can't take it away."
The other party was crying terribly, as if some tragic injustice had occurred.
But the same few words were repeated over and over, clearly not the brightest bulb.
