In the dark forest,
four corpses lay scattered haphazardly, like discarded dolls.
Their faces were twisted, frozen in expressions of terror at the moment of death.
The blood, under the sunlight, appeared a strange dark red, pooling on the ground in small streams, winding like a river.
The air was filled with the stench of iron rust mixed with the rotting leaves.
Occasionally a gentle breeze blew through, but it couldn't disperse the thick, bloody smell.
Lian Bing and the other two, still alive, had their gazes fixed tightly on Shen Qing, their eyes filled with astonishment and doubt.
They looked as if they were seeing some indescribable monster.
Lian Bing opened his mouth to ask something, but in this deathly still forest, he found that the countless words he wanted to say simply wouldn't come out.
He glanced down at Shen Qing, letting the shock seep into his heart.