Qin Ye breathed deeply to calm his heart down.

The rows of steel cabinets in front of him had actually caused a sense of responsibility to swell from the depths of his heart.

And it came quickly and without warning, clouding his heart with a long, lingering effect.

He received the docket from Lou Chuan’s hands and began to read its contents.

“Year 197X. The Mao Clan incident at Chuan City.”

“Mao Clan Village, Riverboat County, Chuan City, was located five hundred meters below sea level, and was formed by people of the Dai and Han ethnicity groups. The Mao Clan led the village. The population size of the village was one thousand, five hundred and forty-six. On 5 April 197X, during the night of the Qingming Festival, there was a torrential downpour. The Mao Clan’s ancestral shrine was brightly lit with candles and incense that had been kept going for decades on end. And yet, at exactly midnight, everything was extinguished. The people of the Mao Clan Village believed that their ancestors were back to visit them, and they all knelt down and prayed to their ancestors.”

“On the morning of 6 April at 1.00 a.m., someone was reported to have sounded the night watch gong. But investigations revealed that the Mao Clan had ceased to use their night watch gong for thirteen years by then. 2.00 a.m. A hundred crows braved the downpour and flew to the banyan tree at the entrance of the village, weeping blood incessantly. The village chief believed that this was an omen for bad luck, and he immediately directed all villagers to leave the village. Most villagers evacuated by 3.00 a.m. According to the survivors, they even heard vivid cries of those carrying a palanquin coming from right beside their ancestral...