Three months later, it was once again the harvest season in Spirit Valley.
The bright moon shone through pine branches, and in the wilderness, yellow-green lights flickered like the glow of fireflies.
The outline of the mountain peaks resembled crouching beasts, and the shadows of the trees swayed gently.
In the bamboo house, the fragrance of Yellow Sprout Rice filled the air.
Two beeswax candles, as thick as a child's arm, burned quietly, brightening the small building as if it were daytime.
Ji An was cutting talisman paper, the candle occasionally crackling, sending out drops of wax.
After finishing his work, he stretched lazily, his bones making a crisp sound.
He counted the pieces of talisman paper, and then chuckled triumphantly:
"From two acres of Talisman Grass, I've made 120 pieces of Tier One Middle Grade Talisman Paper, with an excellent quality rate of over thirty percent. In the future, just by making talisman paper, I'll be able to prosper."
