In the seventh year of the Republic of China, the year of Wuwu, Qingming Festival.
Deep in the Shiwan Mountains in western Hunan, there is a place called "Guantou Ao". This place is very evil. On weekdays, the fog is shrouded and the birds and animals are extinct. The local hunters would rather go around the ten-mile mountain road than pass through here. The old people say that what is buried under Guantou Ao is not soil, but resentment.
That afternoon, a hole opened in the originally gloomy sky without any warning.
It wasn't thunder, but a crisp sound like glass breaking, followed by scarlet raindrops.
The rain was not like ordinary rain. It was as thick as human blood. It sizzled when it fell on the bluestone, and a strange smell of fishy-sweet smoke came out. The rainwater flowed along the shape of the col's mouth and faintly gathered into a huge, inverted funnel, covering the entire valley.
In the center of this bloody rain, a lonely thatched house was being washed away and changed its color. A shrill scream of a woman came from the room, followed by a baby's loud but strange cry - the cry did not sound like a newborn baby, but more like a cat being strangled by the neck, sharp, harsh, and filled with an unconvincing animosity.
