The surroundings were gloomy and pitch-black. The ghost temple club was in full swing, yet it carried a chilling, ghostly aura.
An eerie wind blew from an unknown direction. In the shadows, something unclear and inexplicable seemed to flit about. A bone-chilling coldness rolled in like night fog, making the roadside weeds RUSTLE and sway.
All around, there was a dead silence. The townspeople kept their doors and windows tightly shut. Only at the Manor, beneath high-hanging red lanterns, did it appear bustling and lively.
The scent of wine and meat rose into the air. The voices of the workers shouting and calling out traveled far into the quiet night. Even those performers near the Manor couldn't help but frown, feeling a peculiar unease.
In their eyes, it seemed as if the Manor had a dozen or so stoves burning. It was so unbearably warm, even in the dead of winter, that people had shed their thick cotton coats.
