Bloodstains smeared on the grass, dripping down the tips of the straw, Jia Liu's half-buried face in the grass, with one eye staring at the patchy lacquer god statue on the altar, suddenly began to cry with a woeful wail.
The somewhat foolish cries mixed with the screech of an owl. In the dead of night, it was especially chilling.
"Wuu wuu~"
Jia Liu suddenly stopped crying, blinked his eyes, and perked up his ears to listen carefully.
"Wuu wuu~"
The sobbing didn't cease, someone was sniveling bitterly, but it wasn't his own voice.
Whoosh!
A cool breeze started outside the ruined City God Temple, swirling up leaves and dust from full windowsills, and pelting them against the paper paned windows.
Outside was pitch-dark. One could only hear the ever-increasing wails and the faint, shifting tones of several green ghostly fires.
