At the hour of the Tiger in the capital, patrol guards discovered that all was silent behind the high walls of the Shen residence. They broke down the door, only to find corpses filling the entire estate.
Not one of the Shen family’s thirty-seven members had survived. Every door and window was locked from the inside, forming a perfect sealed room.
Black, foul-smelling blood streamed from every orifice of the victims. Their faces were twisted beyond recognition, as though they had seen something terrifying before they died. There were no cuts or other weapon wounds on their bodies.
In a corner of the main room in the inner residence, the same twisted symbols had been painted in blood. The markings did not fade in the wind, and felt sticky to the touch, like the grease of a corpse.
