In the solitary night, the moon resembled the eyes of a fox, gazing indifferently at the mortal world.
At that time, the Central Plains were in distress, suffering under tribulation, war spreading across the land of Kyushu, human lives as insignificant as grass, living in constant fear.
Outside the abandoned temple in the desolate wilderness, a lone crow stood on a branch, its blood-red eyes seeking carrion in the darkness.
In these times, the thing most abundant was discarded corpses, white bones starkly visible by the roadside, with no one to claim them, feeding the crows.
Under the eerie moonlight, the dilapidated temple appeared even more desolate.
This was an era of dwindling faith, where lofty Gods and Buddhas seemed blind to the suffering and war of the mortal world, the cries of the masses unable to reach the heavens.
"Heh heh, this batch of captives is quite a fine catch…"
Deep within the temple, in a shabby meditation room, cold laughter echoed through the night.
