The plum rains in the south of the Yangtze River are torrential, and the turbid waves that break the embankments swallow up thousands of acres of rice fields. On the night when Shen Yan, the censor of the former dynasty, was demoted because of his outspokenness and his entire family was executed, he jumped into the Qiantang River holding half of his ancestral demon-slaying sword, but was rushed into a half-collapsed river temple. The golden paint of the statue peeled off, exposing the mud body and wooden bones. Only a lightning strike on the forehead was as sharp as an eye.
"The Clay Bodhisattva can't protect himself, but he is in the same boat as me." Shen Yan sneered, covered himself with a straw mat and huddled under the god's desk.
Thunder exploded in the middle of the night, and something rolled down from the trembling table - a dusty bronze River God's Token. He wiped it casually, and saw the seal text on the order: "Bai Yi, granted the title of Water Lord of Qiantang. He neglected his duty and caused waterlogging. He cut off the bones of the gods and demoted them to the mortal world."
A dark wind suddenly swept through the temple door, and a woman staggered and fell in. The plain clothes were soaked in blood, and the chains between the wrists were deeply embedded in the bones and flesh. When he raised his eyes, there seemed to be stars shattering in his eyes: "Mortals... Leave this place quickly!"
The black tide surged behind her, and three faceless water ghosts climbed up the threshold and roared, and the fishy smell hit her nostrils. Shen Yan held the broken sword tightly and smiled bitterly: "Shen is still alive, but I would like to see whether the ghost swallowed me first, or the Lord River God starved to death first?"
