I, the Confucian Ghost Saint, Start with Three Thousand Disciples

My name is Meng Yuhe, a direct descendant of the Meng family in Confucianism and Taoism. A portrait of a man who claims to be the ancestor of the Meng family always nags me to find his real name. His portrait seems to be made of human skin, and blood will flow out every noon on a sunny day, as if his intestines were ripped open. In the dead of night, thousands of pairs of terrifying ghost eyes would appear around his portrait, looking at him fervently and full of piety. When something strange comes over the city, he always pretends to cry as if he is pitiful, but I know that he is just watching the fun. I tried throwing him into the woods, throwing him into a fire, cutting him into pieces, sending him into a high-voltage power grid. But without exception, he comes back the next day, and always with an innocent person missing, reduced to ashes, broken into bones, or struck to death by lightning. I can no longer endure this nightmare life. I decided to hand him over to the state when he reaches adulthood at the age of eighteen. This novel and its characters are purely fictitious. Any similarity is purely coincidental and should not be imitated.