The torrential rain pounded against the dark green-black gravestones, splashing up muddy waves mixed with rotting soil. Clutching the yellowed family genealogy, Lin Yan trudged through the mud of the desolate graveyard, stumbling with every step. He was the last male heir of the Lin family. Before dying, the clan elder had gripped his wrist and told him that the roots of the Lin family's survival lay hidden in the ancestral graves. He had to come light the lamps every Ghost Festival. If the family line's incense went out, something would crawl out of the graves to claim his life...
