After Lu Chenzhou died, the rain stopped.

Real rain.

No divine power, no black water, no incense, just ordinary rain.

The rain fell on the roofs of Huaishui Village, on the gravel in front of the temple, and on Xu Huanshan's white hair.

The people of the Seven Villages did not cheer.

They just stood in the rain, like a group of people who finally woke up.

Xu Huanshan was sitting on the threshold of the temple, with cloth wrapped around his shoulders, wrists, and chest.

Jiang Zhaoxue stood aside and wrote the debt for him.

Xu Huanshan saw that she was writing seriously and couldn't help but ask:

"Can this be reimbursed?"

Jiang Zhaoxue didn't even raise his head.

"You are wanted by the Tianyiyuan, and no one has reported it to you."

Xu Huanshan sighed.

"Then you write so seriously?"

"For future liquidation."

Xu Huanshan thought for a while.

"It makes sense. If you write more, it's best to include my mental losses."

Jiang Zhaoxue paused with her pen tip.

“What is the mental toll?”

"I'm just sad right now."

Jiang Zhaoxue glanced at him.

"I can't tell."

"I'm more reserved when I'm sad."

Ah Qing was squatting by the well, watching the villagers put clean fruits and rice at the mouth of the well.

It's a bit overwhelming.

"What are they doing?"

Xu Huanshan said: "Pay off the debt."

Ah Qing whispered: "I didn't ask for so much."

Xu Huanshan said: "They want to give it."

Ah Qing was silent for a while.

"Then will I have to rain on them again?"

"It depends on your mood."

Ah Qing was surprised: "God can also read your mood?"

Xu Huanshan looked at it and said seriously:

"You are not a god."

Ah Qing's eyes darkened.

Xu Huanshan added: "So you don't have to pretend to be so tired."

Ah Qing was stunned.

Jiang Zhaoxue glanced at Xu Huanshan.

She found that this man was unforgiving, but he could always say the most human-like words when he least expected it.

In the evening, 372 souls came to see them off.