Chapitre 717: Socially dead at 676

He gripped the airplane's armrest with all his strength, to the point where the veins on the back of his hand bulged prominently. He was truly afraid, afraid of being thrown out of the airplane and plummeting thousands of meters to smash into the ground.

For him, this might be the most tragic death he could imagine. So he clung desperately to everything as if doing so would bring him a sense of safety.

Later on, with his eyes closed, he felt the slight jolt of the airplane landing. He could sense the velocity of the airplane decreasing, and the roaring wind around him gradually fading away.

Someone patted the back of his hand that was still tightly clutching the armrest unwilling to let go, until he regained consciousness and saw the ground crew's face full of laughter through the gap left by the sticky fluid he had vomited.

Feeling somewhat embarrassed, he released his grip, removed his dirty goggles, and only then did he realize that his face had gone numb from the wind.