Fourth watch of the night, the hour of Chou, the night is like ink, splashed onto the night sky, unable to dissolve.
Deep in the northern section of Dragon Ridge, a deep ravine that doesn't see the sun year-round, covered in tangled vines, pitch-black and mysterious. The wind passes through the ravine, producing a low sobbing sound, tumbling down the steep cliffs into the abyss, like stones sinking into the sea, without a trace of echo, as if this abyss is the mouth of a giant beast that can devour everything.
