The residents had, out of instincts, avoided getting harmed during the time of danger, and they were prepared to remain silent concerning the situation Meng Fuyao had caused. They were going to keep everything deep within their heart until the crisis was really over.
Was it really over?
The sun set, and the moon rose dimly.
The moon that night seemed to be shrouded by a layer of mist. The haziness of it reflected itself onto the streets, roads, trees, buildings and so on.
The blood gathered in the gutter in the small alley had faded and was taken over by a layer of crystal light. By the gutter grew a wild, dark brown grass that was weirdly-shaped.
The corpse, whose body had been penetrated by Meng Fuyao's sword, moved suddenly. His face was pale green in color, like that of the contaminated water in the gutter.
