Outside the quiet warehouse storage room on the third floor, every craftsman who had rushed to the scene stood pale-faced and trembling on either side of the corridor as footsteps drew nearer. Sweat poured down their backs, and their legs shook so badly they could barely remain standing.

Jian Yuan strolled through the devastated storage vault with his hands clasped behind his back. Without breaking stride, he reached toward an aberrant creature trying to crawl from a busted crate and crushed it into a pool of black liquid, splattering it across the wall.

The wet patter echoed in everyone’s ears, sounding as though it were their own blood spilling onto the floor. They trembled like the leaves of an aspen tree.

At last, Jian Yuan’s gaze settled on a line of large, hastily scrawled characters written across the wall in thick black ink. It read almost like a greeting left behind by a visitor. 

“I heard that your collection was extensive and couldn’t contain my delight, so I came specially to pay you a visit. I arrived in high spirits and left thoroughly satisfied. As a keepsake, I leave behind this humble poem.”

The poem read:

The horse was gaunt, its mane unkempt,
Its overgrown hooves showed neglect.
A father robbing his own son
Was hardly theft when all was done.

Bo...