Myrcella squeezed into the crowd in a state of panic. She saw a middle-aged woman standing in the middle of the street.
She was wearing a flaxen scarf that covered her hair. The scarf that was used to cover her face unexpectedly fell off. At that moment, Myrcella saw the marks of festering on her cheeks.
It was not until the ruby pendant fell out of her chest that Myrcella was sure that she was the little girl’s mother!
However, the people of fragrant velvet city around them also saw the woman’s face, especially the traces of festering on her face. In the eyes of those people, she was as terrifying as the sickle raised by the god of death.
“It’s the Gray Whisper!”
No one knew who was the first to call out the name of the plague. The people on the street quickly retreated, and the street centered around the woman instantly became empty.
She seemed to have fallen to the ground by accident, and the scarf covering her face fell off. She was holding a wooden basket in her hand.
