Qingwu Town: the Fog That Never Dissipates

The fog in Qingwu Town has not cleared for ten years. The day Lin Mo inherited the old house, there was a dragging sound in the fog, like someone dragging chains on the bluestone. He pushed open the creaking wooden door and saw a faceless figure printed on the window paper, and in a wooden box gathering dust in the attic, the last page of a diary read: "The thing in the cellar is counting footsteps. When it counts to three, don't breathe." People in the town always gather under the old locust tree at midnight, chanting spells that no one understands. The grocery store owner said: "Don't stay in the old house on a full moon night, otherwise you will see your own shadow smiling." But when Lin Mo wanted to leave, he found a blue-black mark on his arm, like a rotting flower. Folklorist Su Qing came with a mutilated ancient book. The mark of the evil god on the pages of the book was exactly the same as the mark on everyone in the town. They pried open the lock of the cellar, and in the iron box lay a female corpse with a bronze dagger stuck in her chest. The moment the dagger was pulled out, the female corpse opened her eyes, and the ground in Qingwu Town began to crack. Countless hands stretched out from the ground, and the last line of the ancient book gradually emerged: "In a sacrifice once every hundred years, what is missing is never a sacrifice, but a container." From the old house to the entire town, from the strange marks to the whispers of the evil god, they thought they were pursuing the truth, but they didn't know that they had already stepped into a curse that has lasted for hundreds of years. When the fog clears, will what is revealed be a way out or an abyss?