Recorded Across Generations.
For Those Who Come After.
Shaped like an owl, but its feet are human hands. When it cries, it cries its own name, because there is no one left in the world who will call it. Wherever it appears, the worthy are driven out and the able are unseated. It never attacks, never draws blood, yet those with talent and virtue fall one after another as though an unseen hand is clearing them from the board. Eat its heart, and from then on, wherever you stand, the fortune of those around you flows into you instead. Your colleagues are demoted, and those who once backed you fall from power. You need not fight for anything; you have only to stand there, rising higher and higher while they fall. You will never be certain whether you are the purge's survivor or its source, and in the end you will understand that there is no one left beside you. And so you too begin to call your own name, again and again.
形如鸱鸮，双足却是人的手。它啼叫时，唤的是自己的名字，因为世上再无一人，愿意唤它。 凡它现身之地，必有贤者遭逐、能臣去位、名字自册上勾去。它不咬人，不抓人，但它来过的地方，好人一个接一个地栽了下去，像被无形的手从棋盘上逐一拈走。 食其心者，从此凡你所立之处，旁人的运数皆归于你。同僚遭贬，恩主失势，与你并肩者一个个败落，他们本该有的时运，尽数流入你身。你不必去争，只须站着，便节节高升，屹立不倒。你分不清，自己是这场清洗的幸存者，还是它的源头。到最后你会明白：你身边空无一人，正如它。 于是你也开始，一遍遍，唤着自己的名字。
棲 柜山 Mount Gui
有鳥焉，其狀如鴟而人手，其音如痺，其名曰鴸，其名自號也，見則其縣多放士。