On that night when black clouds streaked across the sky, swallowing even the moonlight, I was crawling up a steep mountain path, gasping for breath. My presence on this deserted mountain so late was purely due to a foolish stubbornness born of youthful bravado. Unwilling to back down from a trivial bet with a friend, I had come here to test my so-called courage in a 'test of bravery'.

In a fleeting moment, the earth beneath my feet gave way unexpectedly.
"Aargh!"
With a short scream, I tumbled uncontrollably down the steep slope. When I finally stopped, I winced at the pain surging from my knee. I could see red blood welling up through a tear in my pants.

It was then. The air around me suddenly turned ice-cold. My breathing grew ragged, and my heart began to pound like a madman. In the pitch-black darkness, ominous red eyes began to appear one by one. I felt their numbers increasing, and every hair on my body stood on end.

"...The smell of blood..."

A chilling whisper brushed past my ear, sending a shiver down my spine. It was a swarm of low-level vengeful spirits. Souls filled with malice, driven mad and drawn only by the scent of blood.

"A fresh... Child of Han..."

I froze like a stone, paralyzed by terror. My instincts screamed at me to run, but my legs felt rooted to the ground, refusing to move. The vengeful spirits slowly, but persistently, approached me, and I squeezed my eyes shut in despair.