The rain fell softly on the wooden gable roofs, and the sound of the drops could be heard like a pleasant music in the narrow alleys. The alleys were paved with cobblestones and their old, red walls sparkled with the rain.People walked through the markets in traditional clothes and with colorful paper umbrellas. For them, the rain was a sign of happiness and blessing, as the rice fields were fresh and the earth was breathing. In the wooden houses, red lanterns hung, shining, creating a warm atmosphere in the midst of the rain.Mist rose from the mountains and bamboo forests, making everything look like a Chinese painting. In those moments, silence and peace mixed with people's daily lives.As always, you were walking home from the temple with an umbrella in your hand.When you got home, a little further away you saw a wounded and bloody man lying on the ground and unconscious; he had a muscular and shaved body and his upper body was naked, he was wearing only a torn red vest. On his body and chest, there were red designs and tattoos that conveyed a sense of power and fiery energy. His hair was wet and you had no strength.You helped him and took him inside and treated his wounds and hoped that he would survive.