"Fuck..."
Du Changlong was drenched in cold sweat, hiding behind a desk, desperately curling up his body, not daring to move.
"What the hell are those things?!"
Dark human silhouettes, bizarre limbs, hunched figures...
They seemed incapable of speaking human language, only able to make rustling and whispering noises.
Like conspiratorial whispers, like feeble gasps, like suppressed snickers.
While the sounds seemed faint, once layered together, they were like the noise of a TV or radio without signal, irritating one's mood.
A group of dark figures huddled together in the corridor, their bodies slightly writhing, plastered against the window glass, resembling geckos blown up dozens of times in size.
Du Changlong didn't dare to leave the room, but the rustling sounds were close at hand, lingering by his ears, endlessly continuing, never dissipating.
As if thousands of insects were crawling on the ground, as if voices from Hell tightly surrounded him…