The sky is moving and the earth is moving, the Supreme Lord is about to appear.
I am dead, and I burned paper for some reason. I borrowed my corpse to bring back the soul, which is really contrary to heaven. Unexpectedly, the vicissitudes of the world have changed. In the blink of an eye, people are no longer human, and ghosts are no longer ghosts. . . Is there any great immortal alive who can give me guidance? Who am I? I am not a trumpet, I am just a wild ghost, and I have no such background. . .
