Thirteen skeletons belonging to Lin Ye's ancestors lie submerged in the mud of Wan'e Lake. An orphan raised on the kindness of others, he pries open the camphorwood chest his mother guarded to her dying breath on the bitterly cold night he pawns his last ragged coat. In the foul-smelling, corpse-stained Records of the Lake, a map of the deadly waters traced in blood-red ink perfectly matches the birthmark on his back. The family tree hidden between its pages reveals that every Lin man drowned in the lake's central whirlpool on his twenty-fifth birthday.
The night Lin Ye dives into the crocodile-infested waters wearing vine armor, he glimpses a terrifying truth in the stinking belly of a crocodile: a bronze altar at the bottom of the lake holds the vengeful spirits of his Ming dynasty ancestors captive, and every brick carved with incantations feeds on the life force of the living. His awakened
