Lamplight illuminates, casting a warm glow, the eaves of the ancestral hall in Hukang Village are veiled in bright moonlight, and the villagers gather there to watch as the Taoist throws down several large black hemp sacks.
One by one, they slowly open them, peeking inside, revealing heaps of grain and wheat seeds for spring planting.
The villagers' expressions waver like waves of wheat, initially showing delight, but quickly suppressing their emotions, fearing those bandits aren't all dead, and the grain was stolen, celebrating too soon rarely brings good fortune.
Only one large black hemp sack remains, heavy with weight, everyone holds their breath, exchanging glances, and several hands reach out and swiftly uncover it.
Hey, all round heads!
The crowd falls silent for a moment, as if staring at an illusion, just the fantasy before death by starvation, no one makes a sound.
Suddenly, someone awakens as if from a dream.
"All dead, truly all dead! A hero!"
