February 11, 2015. Outskirts of Hengcheng City, 6:55 AM. The Little New Year.
The sky had yet to brighten. Snowflakes drifted down from the pitch-black heavens, dancing in the wind. They blanketed the earth in white and carried with them a biting chill.
In the mountains on the outskirts, the area around the silent Tang Family ancestral hall was deserted. There was only the sound of the wind and the falling snow.
On the other end of the mountain path, on a small hillside several hundred meters from the hall, a young man with a short crew cut was staring intently at the location.
Despite the biting wind and temperatures well below zero, the young man wore only a thin layer of clothing—a faded white shirt and a pair of jeans, washed so often they had turned pale. Such attire offered no protection from the cold. In fact, the young man's face was deathly pale, completely devoid of color, as if he might collapse into the snow at any moment.
Everything was strange.
