The white rice on the table was suddenly covered with black worms. The dogs in the village didn't bark a word. In the quarry cave in the back mountain that had been sealed for twenty years, six people were carrying an empty coffin and walked the same road repeatedly.
Unseen things began to crowd into the village. The swarms of insects that eat Yin Qi are both a scourge and a living mud that blocks the cracks; the wild ghosts guarding the river have forgotten their names, but they are still blocking the ghosts from coming ashore.
