At the crossroads, a chilling wind occasionally sweeps through the mountain road mixed with soil and sand, the ghostly figure drifting, sleeves fluttering unpredictably, resembling a fierce ghost returning from the dead, quite eerie.
Fan Kong halted his steps, the green ox also stopped at once.
His expression slightly tensed, he retracted the previously gentle face that even had a touch of ingratiation, turning into one of gravity, as the wind scraped his white beard, there was a flavor of a Taoist descending the mountain, a monk breaking precepts.
The man's face was sinister, eyes slightly shut, with a faint smile, hands still outstretched, lips repeating that sentence,
"Still missing one."
Fan Kong pulled the green ox, coldly questioning:
"Friend, you are clearly but a skeleton in the tomb, what obsession are you holding onto, why not rest and reincarnate?"
"No place to go." The Daoist responded, the surrounding wind arising.
