The pitch-black rainy night was filled with thunder and fire.
The Big Yellow Dog had been sleeping soundly in its kennel, but Old Man Liu's words scared it into bolting out into the downpour.
Thus, it spoke for the first time, blurting out words like a recognition call.
Over Shuangshu Village, an elderly blackened skin drifted with the gale and torrential rain, like a ragged kite, as lava-like blood flowed from its eye sockets.
The fur on the Big Yellow Dog bristled as it stared at the night sky, baring its snowy white teeth.
It was furious; it had already bowed ninety-nine times, just short of the last twitch, and someone came to stir trouble—was this meant to drag it down to the grave?
It lived on scraps, weathered hardship for years, enduring patiently—was it easy for it?
It was on the brink of enduring to the end, and good days were not far off. So where did this feathery person come from to wreak havoc and sabotage its future?
