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In the great hall, Liang Qu sat at the upper right, his bare upper body revealing a flesh wound that was startling to the beholder.
Behind him, the physician held a mortar, crushing herbs and extracting their juices to prevent the wound from festering.
Chen Zhao'an sat at the upper left, his hands crossed and resting on his cane.
A group of village elders sat or stood, all looking uneasy, and occasionally wincing in pain at the sight of the grotesque wound.
Apart from the groans of pain from the injured villagers in the hall, the entire place was oppressively silent.
Chen Zhao'an glanced around and fixed his gaze on an elder sitting to his lower left. The elder, understanding the unspoken command, stood up and looked towards Liang Qu, raising once again the previous question.
"This Mountain Ghost is neither the great one from Pingyang Town nor one that has just been born."
Liang Qu declared with finality.
The physician grinding the herbs trembled slightly.
