Synopsis
A panguan cultivation school once had a founder of great integrity. His name carried weight, but these days people avoid speaking it entirely. When they do, the only thing that comes out is, "He came to a terrible end." Wen Shi was the only one still following the old ways. Every morning, he would bow before the founder's fierce, garish portrait, and this habit of his brought a frail ghost into his home. The ghost stood before the portrait and said, "Who painted this?" Wen Shi: "I did." Don't ask him about it. Trust me—you'll just end up with something…
