The thin, blue-faced old man spat out a mouthful of black blood. Only a few filthy strips remained of his already ragged clothes.
Struggling to raise his head, he glanced at the Vengeful Ghost hovering in midair, her red skirt fluttering, then at the Black Flood Dragon looming over him with his head held high. Fear and fury filled his eyes, and his gaunt body trembled violently.
His chest heaved. Suddenly, he roared like a madman.
"Who the hell are you! We have no grudge against each other! Why are you doing this to me!"
Red Clothes sneered, her blood-red lips curling slightly as mockery laced her voice.
"So you do know what it means to have no grudge? How rare."
The thin, blue-faced old man propped himself up hard on one arm, searching for a way to survive.
As the standoff continued, the Mist Tide in the woods began to recede. The sky of the Spirit Realm brightened inch by inch, and the white mist grew thinner.
The young man lying on the ground saw an enormous shadow through the thinning mist.
The mist suddenly churned violently, as though something were stirring it. A powerful gust pressed down, sending leaves rustling across the mountain and whipping up grass and branches. An enormous, multicolored bird descended from the sky, her spread wings beating repeatedly, almost blowing away all the mist in the surrounding woods.
She landed and folded her wings.
The thin old man's heart sank straight into the depths. The Red-Skirted Vengeful Ghost had grievously wounded him, and the Black Flood Dragon was ferocious beyond all bounds.
He had thought he might escape by sacrificing half his life, only for a giant, five-colored bird to descend overhead.
Surrounded on three sides, he could not see a single way out.