High School of Demon Hunting
Chapter 947 - 9: Beyond the Blue Smoke

Chapter 947: Chapter 9: Beyond the Blue Smoke

Zheng Qing entered the kitchen and saw his mother meticulously preparing the evening’s feast.

Slaughtering chickens, butchering fish, cutting beef, frying shrimp, and washing various green vegetables and fruits clean, she placed them into different bowls and dishes, ready for use.

The stove had been on since the morning, and there had hardly been any chance to put it out. Whether stewing ribs or braising chicken, it was very much a test of temperature control and patience.

As a kid, especially during the New Year, besides playing outside with his friends, Zheng Qing’s favorite place was the kitchen. Because here, from morning till evening, one could eat various kinds of delicious dishes freshly out of the pot all day long.

Freshly cut bright red beef, tenderly stewed chicken feet, meatballs draining oil in a bamboo basket, golden fried belt fish, as well as pristine white lotus root slices, tender yuba, and more, all kinds of appetizing food filled his view, making one salivate. Before they were served on the dining table, it was rare for the children to have a feast; they could only sneak a little from the plates when the adults were not looking, like a Flower Cat stealing a taste.

Of course, now Zheng Qing had escaped the awkwardness of sneaking bites as a child, and he could confidently walk into the kitchen and steal a taste amidst his mother’s scolding tone—just like now, he picked up a slice of tender beef from the dish.

"Did you wash your hands?!" his mother glared at Zheng Qing, her voice slightly raised.

"It didn’t wash either," Zheng Qing sucked on his fingertips, eyeing the steaming stewed chicken in the pot with covetous eyes, tilting his head to gesture towards another uninvited guest nearby.

"Are you a cat?" Mother Zheng snapped angrily.

"In a sense, yes," Zheng Qing silently answered in his heart.

Of course, such a suicidal reply definitely couldn’t be said aloud. So, he turned his head and greeted the guest beside him:

"Brother Huang, have you eaten enough?"

Yellow Flowered Cat tugged at its ear and ignored the boy.

Just as Zheng Qing had thought earlier, Yellow Flowered Cat was also in the kitchen.

At that moment, it was squatting obediently on the bowl rack, purring contently as it enjoyed the New Year’s Eve dinner ahead of time—Mother Zheng, whenever she finished a dish, would always put a little in a small dish in front of Yellow Flowered Cat. Glancing over, Zheng Qing saw that the small dish was filled to the brim with beef, fish, and chicken.

"If you eat anymore, you’ll turn into a pig, watch out that you might collapse my family’s bowl rack!" Zheng Qing couldn’t help but tease Yellow Flowered Cat, then turning to his mother said, "Also, we haven’t yet offered to our ancestors, is it alright to eat now?"

According to family tradition, before the New Year’s Eve dinner was served, a small portion had to be separated for the ancestors to enjoy. Only after the ancestors had partaken could the descendants begin eating.

Hearing Zheng Qing’s query, Mother Zheng replied annoyingly: "Didn’t you just eat? ... And besides, it’s a cat, not a person, why should it follow our family’s old rules?"

Yellow Flowered Cat meowed appropriately, as if to show support for Mother Zheng.

Consequently, it gained another piece of tender fish meat.

’I highly suspect whether it really is a cat.’ Zheng Qing argued silently in his heart, while rolling up his sleeves, composedly said, "Then what should I be doing?"

"No, you’re supposed to go welcome the ancestors in a moment... don’t dirty your hands," his mother stopped him, pointing outside the kitchen: "Just stay outside quietly."

According to the old ritual rules, women could not lead the ceremony, and Mother Zheng had quite a few complaints about this, criticizing Father Zheng several times every New Year, by extension making Zheng Qing suffer as well.

He shrugged and obediently walked out of the kitchen.

Greeting the ancestors did not have a very fixed time, but it was generally arranged in the afternoon or late afternoon.

Grandfather’s room had already cleared out a large space.

An old family hall painting—the layout displaying a courtyard—had already been hung on the wall facing north. Below the painting was the courtyard wall, with men and women gathered outside; in the middle were rows of ancestral tablets, inscribed with the names of the deceased from top to bottom in decreasing generational order; above was an impression of the ancestral hall.

In front of the family hall, a ceremonial table was already set up.

On the table, incense burners, alcoholic drinks, fruits, dumplings, bowls, and other offerings were all in place. Next to the table stood a small, crudely made rosewood tablet without a name inscribed. Zheng Qing had once asked his grandfather whom the tablet was for, and his grandfather told him it honored the ancestors who had died young; though they had not continued the family line, they were still part of the family, and on festive occasions, it was proper to make offerings to them.

Besides offering sacrifices inside the house, it was also necessary to set off firecrackers and burn paper money outside.

As a child, Zheng Qing was the most enthusiastic about this, as it was one of the few times he could legitimately set off fireworks.

But now, having reached adulthood, his interest in these activities had waned significantly.

After all, having seen real magic and the wizard world, the ancient folk practice of welcoming the ancestral hall had become an optional ritual in his life.

After the men of the family brought paper money and other items outside the house, the eldest among them, which was Zheng Qing’s grandfather, drew a circle on the ground and sketched a few simple symbols—Having studied the talisman from Mr. Wu, Zheng Qing had seriously studied these ancestral symbols and determined that they had no real effect; they were just some incomplete combinations of talismans, perhaps only serving to comfort those still living.

Not to mention summoning souls or gods, they could not even slightly influence the world beyond this one.

Zheng Qing had once tried using real Fu Method to summon spirits, but aside from attracting some recently departed lonely ghosts, he had not managed to call forth his family’s ancestral spirits. The consequence of that attempt was falling severely ill when he returned home.

Since then, he had never attempted such a recklessly ambitious act.

The place for burning paper money was a secluded open space in the neighborhood, originally a garden that had been neglected for a long time after poor maintenance. The property management did not receive any money, so naturally, there was no incentive to take care of it. Hardly anyone came here usually.

After clearing away dried grass and branches on the open ground, drawing the circle, and sketching the symbols, Professor Zheng placed a copper basin in the circle, then laid a mat on the ground. With the support of Zheng Qing’s father, he slowly knelt down and began to burn the paper money.

Zheng Qing silently followed the elders’ actions, not speaking, his mind constantly wondering what his schoolmates were doing now—whether they were galloping in the hunting ground or concocting enchanting magic potions.

When he snapped back to reality, the paper money in the copper basin had already started emitting blue smoke.

Grandfather and father were lying on the ground, seemingly muttering something.

Zheng Qing blinked, feeling that there was a bit too much smoke coming from the copper basin—probably due to incomplete burning, he thought. He looked around for a stick or something to stir the paper money in the basin.

The next second, an overwhelming sense of dread seized his heart, making him gasp for breath.

Outside the blue smoke, a pair of bright red eyes appeared before him.

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