Not far away, a middle-aged man and woman lay in a pool of blood, their hands contorted fiercely, reaching toward somewhere ahead.
Following the direction of their hands, a boy about five or six years old was there, his head twisted at an eerie angle to one side.
There was a gaping wound on his head, with fresh blood gushing out incessantly.
On the walls, on the floor, blood was splattered everywhere.
The blood seemed not to have dried, streaming straight down the pale wall.
An Ziqi wanted to go save him, but her legs felt weak, utterly unable to lift.
The thick scent of blood rushed into her nostrils.
A nauseating feeling surged up from her stomach.
An Ziqi raised a hand to cover her mouth, intending to vomit.
Suddenly, something cold and sticky grabbed her ankle.
Looking down, An Ziqi saw a blood-soaked hand gripping her ankle tightly.
A young woman lay in the pool of blood at her feet, her body covered in blood, convulsing violently.
