When the night-watching incense burned to the seventh inch in the ancestral temple, black blood suddenly oozed from the bronze lamp.
Lin Zhao stared at the rules written in blood floating on the altar table - "Those who close the window while pausing to die will bleed to death from all their seven orifices" and "if the incense is extinguished during vigil and the "Burial Sutra" is not recited backwards, the soul will be chewed through the cracks of the coffin."
He wiped away the bronze tablet pattern that suddenly appeared on the back of his hand, and his throat became tight - this was the "Zhenling bloodline" that his grandfather had said was heating up.
But when he gritted his teeth and finished reciting the last sentence of the "Burial Sutra", the green nails sticking out from under the altar table pinched his ankle.
