On the day I was born, black smoke rose from the ancestral graves, and the foxes in the village howled all night long.
When I was seven years old, I could see "Wong Tai Sin" following my grandma. When I was sixteen, she drew a blood talisman on my palm before she died.
It wasn't until the black old lady who had been suppressed by my ancestors for hundreds of years came to my door that I knew——
I am not a disciple at all, but a living tribute that shamans have sacrificed to "that one" for generations.
