There were no stars in the sky, and the moon was hidden.
Atop a desolate hill in the Southern Region stood a decrepit building, full of the marks of time. On this moonless, windy night, the mountain breeze carried the faint sound of a mournful wail.
Crunch.
A foot stepped on a broken branch, the crisp sound echoing in the night. A few figures then appeared in front of the building, staring at it for a while before entering.
There were five of them, the most noticeable being a man as sturdy as an iron tower, his thin shirt had failed to conceal the well-defined muscles carved like chiseled stone, and his face was equally resolute.
Leading the way was an old man in a simple attire, his skin wrinkled and his face bearing the marks of time.
He had his hand on the shoulder of a child who looked chubby and adorable, sporting an ash-gray face.
Behind them was a stout and stocky middle-aged man, and a slender, tall young man like a bamboo.
