After that day， nobody knew what happened; everything came suddenly and disappeared just as quickly.
“Headmaster， where did these monsters come from? Why did they choose our village?“the villagers asked， their eyes filled with fear and confusion.
“Headmaster， is our home still safe? Can we continue to farm and provide for our families as before?“ the farmers inquired anxiously.
“Headmaster， are our defenses sufficient? How can we protect ourselves from harm by these monsters?“ an elder villager asked， gripping his hoe tightly.
“Headmaster， is this a sign? Is a greater disaster about to befall us?“pondered an old man， his brow furrowed in thought.
Headmaster， should we seek help from the outside world? Perhaps someone knows the secrets of these monsters，“ suggested a woman， her voice tinged with hope.
“God， save us!“ some villagers prayed， kneeling on the ground， hoping for divine protection.
“This is retribution; we must have done something wrong!“
In fear， the villagers began to introspect， searching for the cause of the calamity.
The principal stood before the villagers， a calming presence amidst their stress. He began to speak， his voice steady and reassuring.
“My dear friends and students， I can not answer your questions but I do want you to imagine your anxiety as a mischievous little creature，” he said， a gentle smile on his face.“Let’s call him‘Worry Wombat’.”
Murmurs of amusement rippled through the crowd. The principal continued，“Now， Worry Wombat loves to play hide and seek. He hides in the corners of your mind， popping out at the most inconvenient times.”
The villagers nodded， recognizing the truth in his words. The principal went on，“But， Worry Wombat has a weakness - he can’t resist a good joke.”
Laughter echoed through the gathering. The principal’s eyes twinkled as he said，“So， the next time you feel Worry Wombat creeping up on you， stop what you’re doing and tell him a joke.”
“We do not know any joke!“， a villager challenged.
The headmaster paused and thought for a second， then delivered the punchline，“It could be something like this: Why don’t our physics teachers trust atoms? Because they make up everything!”
All the students erupted into laughter， their stress momentarily forgotten.
The principal， noticing some puzzled faces in the crowd， chuckled and continued，“I see some of you didn’t quite catch that one. No worries， physics jokes can be a bit…‘elementary’.”
Laughter rang out again， a little louder this time. The principal went on，“But let’s try another one， something a bit more universal. Why don’t we ever tell secrets on a farm?”
He paused， letting the question hang in the air. Then， with a grin， he delivered the punchline，“Because the potatoes have eyes， the corn has ears， and the beans stalk!”
This time， the laughter was nearly unanimous. The principal， satisfied， concluded，“Remember， friends， laughter is the best medicine. And Worry Wombat? He’s no match for a good sense of humor.”
The villagers left the meeting feeling lighter， their worries momentarily forgotten in the face of shared laughter and camaraderie.
The villagers and students suffered heavy casualties， with a cemetery filled with numerous new graves. This week， the villagers held funerals everywhere.
------
Many students and villagers disappeared， much like A-Lai， and their funerals were held on a misty， overcast day. The students who were still around laid a big bunch of wild yellow flowers and some deep red roses from the fields on A-Lai's grave.
Maybe the person who brought the roses didn't know they're not usually for funerals. Color blindness is pretty common， but it's nothing much to talk about.
If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.
A few villagers in the group whispered among themselves，“Why hasn't Master Gongsun arrived yet?“
“He got drunk again yesterday and has been sleeping all day!“ a middle-aged villager said.
“When will he ever quit drinking?“ the middle-aged villager's wife said， her tone filled with worry.
“The old man always said it's hardest for others to quit drinking， but it's a piece of cake for him since he quits at least a dozen times a year!“ the middle-aged villager's daughter said dismissively， with a scornful expression.
She suddenly fell silent， seeing a solitary figure sitting on a distant high slope; it was Master Gongsun. Since being misled by the demon general that day， he had been wracked with guilt and spent his sober moments alone and quiet.
The villager's daughter felt a pang of guilt. She had been harsh in her words about the old man， Gongsun， behind his back. It seemed a bit too much. But when a middle-aged monk appeared and handed a gourd of clear liquor to the old man， Gongsun didn't hesitate to accept it. He tilted his head back and drank， the liquid flowing down his throat like a ribbon of silver.
“Old dogs never change their habits!“ the little girl muttered under her breath.
“Master Gongsun， please come to our temple. We need your help!“ The middle-aged monk bowed with respect.
“I may be bald， but that doesn't mean I'm meant to be a monk，“ the old man said as he rubbed his head.
“We're not asking you to become a monk， but we need someone with your special abilities to help us fight against the rising evil demon king!“
“What's in it for me if I join you?“
“Our organization is wealthy， and we have all kinds of fine liquors， all made from authentic grains.“
The old man pondered for a moment， realizing that he was no longer safe in this quiet village. Perhaps it was time to find a new place to hide. So he tilted his head back again， emptied the gourd of liquor， and then returned it to the monk.
He beckoned to a young monk not far away，“Young man， come here! I see you have an extraordinary physique and talent. Would you like to follow me and learn some real kung fu?“
“Thank you， but my master is far more skilled than you are!“ The young monk turned his head to the side with a hint of disdain.
Master Gongsun nodded and burst into hearty laughter.“Ha ha! It's been a long time since I've had such an entertaining match!“
“Come， come! Let me show you whose martial arts skills are superior!“ Master Gongsun strode confidently toward the middle-aged monk.
“True martial arts isn't about flashy moves; it's about the unity of heart and mind.“ Master Gongsun stood firm， took a deep breath， and then slowly performed a series of punches and strikes. Each movement was deliberate and powerful， seamlessly blending with the natural surroundings.
Beside them， in a grove of bamboo， shadows danced as the wind rustled through the leaves.
The young monk watched intently， absorbing the strength and essence behind each movement. Master Gongsun's technique， though simple， was imbued with profound inner power.
“Convinced?“ Master Gongsun asked.
The middle-aged monk blocked the blows and looked on， confused.“I'm not his Kung Fu master!“
------
On the other side of the street， the principal stood quietly in the rain， using an umbrella to shield the fire pit. He burned A-Lai’s essay as a tribute to the boy.
The principal liked A-Lai a lot， even fantasizing about Alai's future as the next literature teacher or someone who ventured beyond the village to a broader future.
A-Lai never skipped class; occasionally， he might be a few minutes late. A-Lai loved literature， especially stories from beyond the mountains. His eyes would gleam during class， and after class， he would pester the headmaster to tell more stories from outside.
A-Lai was a forgotten friend， but now he was gone.
A-Lai's grandfather hunched over， tears long dried， standing silently behind the headmaster.
Dizzy Dan's face still had bandages on it， squatting in front of the tombstone， carefully studying the red rose. He then turned around and swept his gaze among the girls mourning， spotting that youthful face with deep sadness in her beautiful eyes. In his heart， it seemed like he had discovered some great secret.
“Oh， oh， Headmaster， I understand now!“
With a quick turn， it became clear that two man in black had already taken the principal away. Before leaving， the principal held a teacher's hand and said，
“If the kids come back to the school and want to keep learning， figure out how to keep things going， even if only one child stays.“
Elsewhere on the grounds， a serious female reporter in black delivered her news report with a calm expression:
“Ladies and gentlemen， this is the Area 19 Neuraline News update.
The recent academy fire， caused by improper management of the bonfire event， has resulted in 9 fatalities and over 10 injuries， with the victims now receiving treatment at the hospital， where their conditions are reported to be stable.
In the wake of this tragedy， numerous valiant villagers emerged， battling the flames and rescuing the injured. We will continue to cover stories of these admirable individuals.
The academy's principal has been found to bear significant responsibility for mismanagement and has been taken into custody by the police for investigation.
Additionally， there have been claims from traveller of sighting a massive alien creature， which upon verification turned out to be an inflatable balloon prop used during the bonfire event…“
Her report was delivered as mourners stood in the background， their faces showing numb and vacant.
In the shadow of the distant woods， a black sedan， uncommon in this remote area， stood silently. Inside the car， two figures conversed:
“I've had my fill of this drunken nonsense，“ one voice said.
“Sir， wasn't it you who encouraged them to speak this way?“ the other replied.
“Oh， are you idle now? Your task is to ensure Dr. James delivers the answers to us promptly!“