The pitch-black night welcomed the rain like galloping horses.
Raindrops, like a thousand arrows, hit the roof with a crackling sound.
Pushing open a crack in the wooden door by the fire, Chen Zhou surveyed the world outside the tent.
The drizzling rain came with a fierce momentum, instantly turning from threads into strands, and then into lines, weaving into a white sheet pouring down from above.
Water droplets splashed into the room, hitting the burning charcoal, emitting a soft hissing sound with a scent of evaporating water.
The rumble of thunder frightened Lai Fu into the corner between the bed and the wall, tail tucked, looking terrified.
Occasional lightning ripped through the dark sky, illuminating the forest as if it were daylight.
In just an instant, the soil on the woodland was submerged, fallen leaves and branches were swept up by the rushing streams, hurrying down the slope.
