In the heady days of my youth, I trespassed into the silent, hidden hills behind our village in a quest for ancient human relics. Quite by chance, I crossed paths with a spectral pantomime of such eerie authenticity that I teetered on the precipice of the underworld. Only the presence of an emerald serpent, acting as my celestial guardian, saved me - albeit at the peculiar price of betrothal. Unfolding amidst the enigmatic tableau of Qiannan are archaic rituals - spectral theatrics, espousals to the ethereal, summoning rites of wayward spirits, the veneration of hallowed graves, and sorcerous incantations wielding peach wood. These uncanny customs perpetually weave a tapestry of unease and fear. They unfurl an incessant, spectral dance, convulsing the land in a perpetual frisson of dread.