The sky in the capital city of Da Chu was as cloudy as a bluestone soaked in water. In the woodshed of Fushun Hou Mansion, Lin Zhao squatted on the haystack, rubbing the old scar on his arm with his fingertips.
It was whipped by Zhao Hu, the evil slave of the Hou Mansion, last month because the copper basin he polished was not polished - but everyone knew that Zhao Hu looked at him with displeasure, as if he looked at the flesh on the chopping board.
"Lin Zhao!"
The door was kicked open with a "squeak" sound, and the cold wind rushed in wrapped in Zhao Hu's rough voice.
Lin Zhao looked up and saw the tall and thick man with his hands on his hips, and the brass-ringed knife on his waist was so dazzling that it hurt his eyes.
Zhao Hu had a scar on the left side of his face, stretching from his brow to his chin. He was grinning like a vicious dog that had seen its prey.
"Mrs. Hou said that the ruined temple on the outskirts of the city should be cleaned up." Zhao Hu spat, "Go and clear the rubble before dawn tomorrow."
Lin Zhao felt a thump in his heart.
There have long been rumors in the ruined temple on the outskirts of the city that ghosts often cry at night. Last month, a handyman went to collect firewood and went crazy when he came back. He said he saw a white shadow with red eyes.
Zhao Hu clearly wanted him to die - either to be frightened mad by ghosts or to break his legs and feed them to wild dogs.
"Master Hu, that temple..." As soon as Lin Zhao opened his mouth, Zhao Hu kicked his waist with the sole of his shoe.
He hit the wall with a groan, grass clippings falling into the back of his neck.
