As the hour of midnight approached, Lin Mo squatted by the dry well, pouring cinnabar powder into a copper basin. The dark red powder gleamed metallically in the moonlight. A Bagua pattern had long been drawn on the bottom of the basin with realgar wine.

"A lady from a noble family..." He curled his lips, pulling out an oil-paper package from his bosom. Inside, wrapped were two blackened earlobes—freshly dug from the mass grave that morning. "That ancestor in the cellar had really strong tastes."

The night wind suddenly died, and the moss on the wellhead turned from green to black at a visible speed. Lin Mo's eyelids twitched, and he quickly chanted the incantation: "The Mysterious Sect of Heaven and Earth, the Origin of All Qi..." (The opening line of the Taoist Golden Light Mantra, equivalent to "opening a protective shield").

Before he finished his words, a "gulp" sounded from the bottom of the well, as if something heavy had fallen into the water. Lin Mo grabbed the bottle of black dog blood he had prepared and, with his thumb, uncorked it. His movements were fluid—and then he suddenly stopped. "No," he narrowed his eyes. "Didn't this well dry up a long time ago?"