"The fortunes of the entire village? This old woman really dares to do that." Uncle Min was shocked.

Bao Xinbao nodded: "She really dares to do it."

"Mr. Bao, how do you change your fortune?"

Although Uncle Min had been by their side for many years, he was not a feng shui master in essence. He only had a superficial understanding of the conversations the big shots had in the car, and he had only a vague understanding of the specific operations involved.

"The old woman had no children of her own, but she had saved some money," Bao Xinbao said quietly. "On New Year's Eve, she gave red envelopes to every household in the village, saying that she was about to pass away and that Huo Zijing, the only child she had ever raised, was no longer with her. She was thinking of distributing her savings as New Year's red envelopes. Everyone had a good relationship with her, and they all believed her, so they accepted the red envelopes. They also thought they would treat her even better in her final days..."

Huo Zijing's birth date and time, written in invisible ink, were hidden inside the red envelope. No one noticed, but that night the mother-in-law went home and cast the spell. The next day, the villagers found her dead, smiling.

Yan Chiyu casually explained to everyone: "This spell leans towards evil magic, so never pick up red envelopes or similar items you encounter on the road. Not only is there a risk of having your luck stolen, but you might also be forcibly taken to perform a 'yin-bonding' ritual, dear."

Wu Yue had heard a little about the practice of "marrying a ghost," where families who suddenly lose a young child would seek out a recently deceased person of the opposite sex, around the same age, to arrange a marriage. This was the normal scenario. Those who couldn't find a partner would throw red envelopes (containing money) for passersby to pick up, at which point the family hiding behind would jump out excitedly and tell you they'd won.

And that's when your tragic ordeal begins...

"Ahem, let's continue." Bao Xinbao spoke up, drawing the three people's attention to himself: "About three months later, Huo Zijing's spirit was successfully reconstructed. But subsequently, the villagers' fortunes declined, everything went wrong, and gradually some villagers fell seriously ill, struggling on the verge of death. Zheng Shaorong had lived a long time and had the right experience; he talked to Huo Zijing about the old woman's curse."

Huo Zijin knew he had let the villagers down, so he sought help from a feng shui master from the Tao family, asking Master Tao to help change the villagers' fortunes, for which he was willing to pay a price.

By now, you should be able to make sense of the story. Huo Zijin is imprisoned in this small space forever. He cannot be reincarnated, nor is he the god people talk about. He has become a creature between a spirit and a ghost, which some people call a wandering soul.

However, Huo Zijing did save many people with his abilities. This is one of the reasons why later generations worshipped him as the God of Wind…

Bao Xinbao leaned back in the car, his narrow eyes slightly narrowed, gleaming with a cold, eerie light: "He is, not a bad person."

Becoming a wandering soul means being unable to reincarnate, yet remaining immortal through countless lifetimes. Every five hundred years, one's memories must be wiped clean, each time starting afresh, with the daily question: Who am I? Where am I? What should I do?

Huo Zijin must have heard these things from Master Tao long ago, but he still resolutely chose to do them, which shows his responsibility.

Bao Xinbao suddenly wanted to meet this wind god who was so revered and worshipped by the people of Wucheng.

Wu Yue's eyes flickered slightly, a hint of darkness flashing across them: "Does Huo Zijin usually live inside the statue?"

"Yes."

Bao Xinbao nodded in agreement: "Well, the statue is similar to his true form. This kind of statue is different from ordinary statues; it won't easily crack or break. If it does crack one day, it means Huo Zijin is cursed, and he will slowly disappear..."