Eight hundred miles north of Pingjiang City.
Yin Mountain!
Dark clouds gathered, withered woods formed forests, cold crows startled, ancient temples desolate!
The steep mountain path was desolate and deserted, with an eerie gloom surrounding it.
Everybody knew that Yin Mountain harbored demons, ghoul-transformed forests, and no one dared to live nearby. Even in the daytime, few people walked around, and even far-away merchants were willing to take a longer route instead.
Some said that many years ago, a Taoist was buried beneath Yin Mountain after his death. His disciples lit a long-lasting candle over his corpse, poured the blood of nine different life-sacrifices on the coffin, sealed eight gates, leaving the dead gate unsealed.
The twelve child-servants chanted incantations for a hundred days.