Late at night, a desolate mountain.
The moon gazed indifferently at the mortal world, like a fox's eyes.
"Hey little friend, what are you doing wandering around Beimang Mountain alone so late at night?"
Under the bright moonlight, amidst the swaying shadows of trees, a six or seven-year-old boy sat on a tree stump, hugging a small backpack, in front of him stood a beautiful big sister.
"I'm lost."
The little boy pouted, hugging his backpack, looking very unhappy.
"Where are your parents? What's your na?"
"They don't care about ."
The little boy pouted even more, his dissatisfaction almost overflowing. After a slight pause, he finally looked up at the beautiful big sister.
"Sister, my na is Zhang Fan."
"Co, sister will take you down the mountain. It's dark, and there are unclean things in the mountains at night."
Said the beautiful sister, holding Zhang Fan's small hand.
"Unclean things? Ghosts?" Little Zhang Fan looked up at the beautiful sister and asked.
"You know about ghosts, little one." The beautiful sister smiled sweetly, patted Little Zhang Fan's head, and lowered her voice.
"There are lots of ghosts in these mountains, especially the Hanging Ghosts, their tongues hang out very long."
Saying this, the beautiful sister's bright eyes stared unblinkingly at Little Zhang Fan, anticipating a frightened reaction from the little guy.
"Sister, have you seen a Hanging Ghost?"
There was no sign of fear on Little Zhang Fan's chubby face; instead, there was a hint of curiosity.
"I have... they're very scary." The beautiful sister said in a softer voice.
"What does a Hanging Ghost look like?" Little Zhang Fan swallowed hard, eyes filled with curiosity.
"People often hang themselves in the mountains, so Hanging Ghosts always have a red ribbon around their necks..." the beautiful sister said lightly.
"Like the one you're wearing around your neck?"
At this mont, Little Zhang Fan raised his small hand and pointed at the beautiful sister's slender neck, where a thin red ribbon swayed like a bloodstain in the night wind.
"Yes, little one..."
Lowering her head, the beautiful sister's long tongue dangled in front, her once pretty face turned a ghastly bluish-purple, her eyes filled with bloody redness, and the hand holding Little Zhang Fan's beca cold and clammy.
"Heh heh, didn't your family tell you that the more you walk at night, the more likely you'll encounter ghosts?"
The beautiful sister's long tongue swayed gently, her gaze towards Little Zhang Fan filled with insatiable greed, such a tender offering was rare in the mountains.
"Behave, let sister..."
Whoosh...
Before the words were finished, a burst of blood-red light shot up to the sky, turning into a gray mist upon contact with the air, the arm that held Little Zhang Fan flew high, leaving its owner at an unknown ti.
"Sister, didn't your family tell you that the more you walk at night, the more likely you'll encounter a Daoist?"
In the desolate mountains, Little Zhang Fan ford a sword technique with his hands, a strand of True Yang flickered like fire, illuminating the trembling face of the beautiful sister.
"A Daoist? You... you're a Daoist!?"
The Hanging Ghost stared intently at Little Zhang Fan, eyes wide with disbelief upon seeing the scarlet fla flickering at his fingertips.
How old could this little guy be? Only six or seven? And he is a Daoist? Moreover, it seems that he has awakened his Primordial Spirit, cultivated True Yang, his skill profound, possessing the ability to suppress and kill ghosts.
"Sister, I'm sorry, but my mom says if I don't kill a ghost every day, I won't get a big at bun."
Little Zhang Fan looked aggrieved, yet as he spoke, he took out a small wooden sword from his backpack, resembling a toy.
Whoosh...
A gust of night wind blew, the Hanging Ghost seemingly fused with the wind, instantly floated back seven or eight ters, distancing herself from Little Zhang Fan.
"Little ghost, this is Beimang Mountain, you..."
The Hanging Ghost clutched her severed arm, an eerie murder intent surged on her bluish-purple face.
Buzz...
Before she finished her words, Little Zhang Fan had vanished from her sight, the toy-like wooden sword had already reached three inches from her throat.
"This... impossible..."
The Hanging Ghost's eyes widened in shock, staring at the ancient wooden sword, her bluish-purple face full of astonishnt.
"Sister, save your last words for next ti, my mom wants ho early for dinner."
Little Zhang Fan was as well-behaved as a top student, True Yang flickering, infusing the sword body, the ancient wooden sword emitted a blazing sword light, lightly piercing, it went through the Hanging Ghost's head.
"Aaaah..."
At once, the Hanging Ghost's form burned violently, blue smoke rose, and in an instant, she was completely obliterated, turning into ash that scattered in the wind.
Little Zhang Fan slowly retracted his gaze, put the toy wooden sword back into his backpack, sat under a large tree hugging his knees, and his stomach growled with hunger.
"So unfair, still not here to pick up."
Little Zhang Fan held his stomach, looking very aggrieved.
"The graves of predecessors urge on the ghosts, beneath Beimang Mountain, barren mounds accumulate..."
At this mont, a light sound echoed, like a murmur from a dream, or the wailing of the night wind.
Little Zhang Fan, like a frightened little beast, instantly beca alert.
Clang... clang... clang...
Simultaneously, a crisp bell sound resonated, Little Zhang Fan hugged his backpack, looked up, and saw on the desolate mountain path amidst the dense barren forest, a white flag swaying in the wind, blue flas danced in the night.
Figures seed to appear out of nowhere, following that white flag.
These figures, male and female, old and young, so even wore Daoist Robes, were eerie and strange...
"The night parade of a hundred ghosts!?" Little Zhang Fan's eyes widened, his neck instinctively shrinking.
Such a scene, he had heard his mom ntion before.
Whoosh...
Suddenly, the mountain wind grew stronger, dust swirling around.
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