---My name is Qiu Sheng, and I am the last direct disciple of Uncle Jiu.
After the master left, I guarded this righteous village, and also guarded the peach wood sword and glutinous rice bag passed down by him. Nowadays, the world has changed. No one believes that zombies are afraid of light anymore, and no one remembers that ink lines need to be mixed with three strands of rooster comb blood.
But I have to speak out. I talked about the coffin being held in Renjia that year, and the master hit me on the back of my neck with a whisk pole and said, "The thread is crooked." I talked about how the bone flute of the musical zombie made the literary talent bleed; I also talked about the teeth of Western vampires, biting into the flesh, it was biting ice.
They all listened to it as a story. Only I know that Master has not left. He is in the lines of these words, in the strokes of every stroke I draw, and in the light I guard.
——The lights of Maoshan will never go out, and the right path will remain in the world forever.
(This book is written with sincerity in memory of Mr. Lin Zhengying forever.)
