The Moon was dark, and the wind was high,
it was the time to destroy the corpse!
The old Daoist squatted under the tree and smoked,
the death servant next to him was digging with a small shovel.
The death servant was a fool, a model of professionalism. He would do whatever he was told to do. The old Daoist was used to it anyway.
The old Daoist was following the boss, anyway, inheriting the boss's spiritual quality. He would slack off whenever he could.
But don't be afraid that this guy would be tired,
there were a lot of mosquitoes in this place during summer nights,
the death attendants dug and ate the mosquitoes happily.
After smoking a cigarette, they threw it on the ground and stepped on it. The old Daoist suddenly realized that his palm was black. He immediately wiped his hands against the bark in disgust.
Seeing that he hadn't wiped his hands clean.,
he spat on his palm and rubbed his hands,
