The ancestral hall of Huaisui Village came into view. The deep brown wooden doors bore strange black marks resembling dried blood. Weeds grew thickly on either side of the entrance, seemingly unattended. Footprints could be seen on the steps, while the rest of the area was covered in a thick layer of dust, evidence that people seldom came here to pay respects to the gods. After all, this was an ancestral hall, the place for offering tribute to the ancestors' tablets—no matter what, it shouldn't be treated with such negligence.
A faint, acrid scent of blood wafted from within the hall, along with the elusive sound of crying.
Chen Yi furrowed his brows. It sounded like the cries of a child.
Just as the two were about to push open the door and enter, an elderly man leaning on a cane called out to stop them.
