The King of Xiuxianjuan returns to modern times and becomes a landlord

Upon hearing this, Old Zhang, the village chief, frowned, his graying hair standing out in the dim light. His rough hands caressed his pipe, but he hesitated to light it. The dim oil lamp inside the house flickered, illuminating the tense and complex expressions of father and son. Old Zhang's heart was torn between wanting to protect his son and maintaining peace in the village.

Zhang Guangyao's heart pounded in his chest. He cursed those foolish old men, his heart filled with indignation and heartache. He had returned home for the Lunar New Year, hoping to reunite with his family. But he hadn't expected the village he'd left behind six years earlier to be transformed beyond recognition. Those once innocent smiles were now shrouded in an endless haze. He felt a deep sense of powerlessness, as if the entire world was against him.

"How could they do this?" Zhang Guangyao's voice trembled, tears glistening in his eyes. "For their own selfish desires, they gave underage girls from the village to those hypocritical villains. What inhuman torture did those girls endure? After being abandoned, they were forced by their families to entertain clients, and ultimately... they died at the hands of their loved ones." At this point, his voice choked, and he could hardly continue. He felt a deep despair, as if the whole world was against him.

Village chief Zhang's expression darkened, a flicker of determination in his eyes. He had once tried desperately to stop this absurd behavior, but was imprisoned by the clan elders, deprived of his voice in village affairs. Now, these old men wanted to make him a scapegoat. How could he give in so easily? He was filled with anger, but even more so with sympathy for the innocent victims.

"I won't let them succeed." Village chief Zhang's voice was deep and powerful, as if, at that moment, he had regained his long-lost dignity and courage. Father and son's eyes met in the dim light, conveying a firm belief and silent support. They knew that only by uniting could they resist these evil forces and bring hope to the village.

Under the light, Old Man Zhang, a usually honest and simple farmer, now wore a solemn expression, his eyes gleaming with determination. He clenched his rough palms, his knuckles white with force, as if using this strength to convey a heavy message to his son across from him.

"Guangyao, have you made any acquaintances with anyone from the Security Bureau over the years?" Old Man Zhang's voice was low and firm, each word pierced through his teeth, revealing an unquestionable resolve. He stared intently at Zhang Guangyao, his weathered eyes filled with both anticipation and worry.

Zhang Guangyao frowned slightly upon hearing this, as if he had caught a foreboding premonition from his father's words. "Dad, you're thinking..." He hesitated, but then realization dawned on him, a flicker of shock and understanding in his eyes. He understood that his father was about to take action against the old men who had long oppressed the tribe and even harbored ill will towards his own daughter.

"That's right," an imperceptible cunning revealed on the honest face of the old man Zhang, and his smile hid years of forbearance and planning. "Your father has been the village chief for so many years because those old guys in the clan thought I was a soft persimmon, but they didn't know that I have been secretly collecting evidence of their crimes all these years." When he said this, his eyes became sharp, as if he could penetrate the darkness and look directly at the enemies hiding in the shadows.

Recalling the pain of his daughter, forced into a nightly marriage by the covetous members of the clan, and unable to return home for years, Old Man Zhang's eyes flashed with pain and anger. But he quickly calmed down. "Dad, I do know a few people in the Security Bureau, but Zhaodi's ghost is wandering outside, and the entire village is shrouded in her resentment. There's no way to get any information out." Zhang Guangyao's tone was filled with helplessness and anxiety. He knew that even with all his connections, they would be useless in this strange and unpredictable environment.

The room fell into a brief silence, with only the flame of the oil lamp jumping and crackling, as if sighing for the plight of the father and son.

As night fell, the sky stained a dark black. Guided by the bright moonlight, the Zhang family father and son tiptoed through the ancestral hall's corridors. Old Zhang's face was etched with the marks of time, and each step seemed heavy and resolute. Zhang Guangyao followed closely behind, his eyes flickering with complex emotions: fear of the unknown and worry for his father. Around them, candlelight flickered in the hall, casting mottled shadows on the walls, as if telling ancient stories, stories that seemed particularly mysterious in the dim light.

They know that this is not only a fight against evil, but also a battle for family honor and bloodline inheritance. Old Man Zhang and Zhang Guangyao, father and son, have tied their destinies tightly together and are ready to face the coming storm.

Old Man Zhang's every step was resolute, for he knew the weight of his responsibility. He had to protect not only his family but also the peace of the entire village. His heart was filled with hatred for the evil forces, but at the same time, he held onto hope for the future and a belief in justice.

Zhang Guangyao followed closely behind, his heart filled with admiration for his father. He understood that his father's plan required his help, and they had to proceed with caution to avoid alerting those evil forces. He also considered how to use the connections he had made in the outside world to bring a glimmer of hope to the village.

Under the moonlight, the figures of Zhang's father and son appeared particularly determined. They knew that this would be a tough struggle, but they also believed that as long as they were united, there would be no difficulties that could not be overcome.

They arrived at a small, unassuming door, a door that seemed lost to time. The wood grain was blurred, and the bolt was rusted. Old Man Zhang's hand trembled slightly as he pushed the door open. A soft creaking sound, like the whisper of a long-sleeping ghost, emanated from it. Outside, a desolate, overgrown field appeared, looking especially desolate in the moonlight, as if even the moonlight was unwilling to linger for a moment.

Zhang and his son cautiously stepped out of the ancestral hall. Zhaodi's figure suddenly appeared in the moonlight, her crimson dress ablaze like flame, glaring in the darkness. Her face was pale, and her eyes gleamed with a faint blue light, like a messenger from hell. Zhaodi's appearance froze the air, and Zhang and his son's hearts nearly stopped. They felt an indescribable chill.

"Village Chief? Brother Guangyao?" Zhaodi's voice echoed in the silent night sky, carrying a hint of disbelief and complex emotions. She raised her hand slightly, as if ready to unleash the power of a fierce ghost, but when she saw the two people in front of her clearly, her movements suddenly froze. A trace of struggle flashed in Zhaodi's eyes, and she retracted the suffocating ghostly aura. Although she was a fierce ghost, she still had a trace of humanity in her heart. She would not harm innocent people, especially the village chief who had helped her. Deep in her heart, Zhaodi still retained her tenderness for the world and a desire for kindness.