halfway through the morning, the sky darkened abruptly. A thick, ominous cloud gathered above the village, twisting into a shape that made hair stand on end. It wasn't a storm cloud from the sky, but something else entirely.

"Ah, what a lovely day for a stroll!" a voice sighed, mostly to himself. "Fancy that. It's not raining yet, but it's definitely trying to."

Standing in the center of the village, Lin Cuihua wiped sweat from her brow. Her head snapped up as she heard the voice. Floating about ten feet above the ground was a small, incredibly old man with a long, grey beard. His eyes, though ancient, sparkled with mischief.

"Who are you, old man?" Lin Cuihua asked, her voice trembling slightly.

The old man, who called himself Mr. Old, floated down and landed on her outstretched palm. He tapped his fingers on her skin like a drum. "I am Mr. Old, the guardian of this ring. And you are Lin Cuihua, or rather, you will be soon."

"What are you talking about?" Lin Cuihua frowned.