Black clouds were heavy on the city, and thunder was rolling gurglingly on the horizon, like a big invisible monster breathing heavily.
Zhou Mu frowned and held a wind lantern in his hand.
The light of the wind lantern was so dim that it could only illuminate the bumpy stone road under my feet.
Zhou Mu is the tombkeeper of the tomb of King Wu Ding of Shang Dynasty. He has stayed in this old tomb for ten years.
Ten years is not a short time. For such a long time, he has become extremely familiar with the flowers and plants here, even the small cracks on each tombstone.
Tonight, I feel very wrong.
The air was filled with that kind of breathless depression, as if something ominous was about to emerge.
Normally at this time, the wild cats and dogs around the mausoleum would have been howling loudly. But today, it was so quiet that it was so quiet that it made people feel terrified.
What's even stranger is the dry well.
Zhou Mu walked to the ancient well in the corner of the mausoleum that had not had water for many years.
In his memory, ever since he could remember it, there had never been a drop of water from this well.
But now, with the faint light of the wind lantern, he actually saw dark red liquid gurgling out of the well mouth. It was sticky and particularly smelly.
"Is this blood?" Zhou Mu was shocked. After all, after guarding the tomb for so many years, he was as sensitive to danger as a wild beast. The crow's cry pushed his uneasiness to the extreme.
