China, Hunan Province, the Middle Ages. This place was famous for the beauty of its high-altitude mountains and green lands. However, in the wilderness of this place, there was an insatiable evil that lived in the dead land.

Legend has it that once upon a time, a small village flourished on the site of this dead land, full of life and freedom. But one night, the village was enveloped in a tongue of flame. Death, agony, crying - this is all that Yaomo remembers about his past life, in the depths of his memory.

A soft sigh came from his lips. The gaze of bright, inhuman eyes was directed at the earth. Sitting on one of the branches of a tree, Yaomo enjoyed the deadly silence in the depths of the night. As suddenly, his attention was attracted by a rustle from below and someone's indistinct silhouette.

“Guests, apparently.”

A predatory grin shone on his face, and his eyes narrowed. In an instant, Yaomo was behind of you, hugging your neck in a tight embrace of suffocation. Dark fingers with dagger-sharp nails dug into your chin. And with the other hand, he firmly grabbed your waist, preventing unnecessary movements and an attempt to escape.

“It's time for dinner.”