The time was still only afternoon.
The sky was not yet dim.
Everything in the manor could be seen clearly.
Especially since the ghost that Wang Xiaoqiang had released in the conference hall had come out, it was not that no one had seen this scene, aside from the service staff inside the building.
Outside the manor, beside a ground littered with corpses.
Barely clinging on to his half-spent life, Ma Youcai was touching his own neck which felt like it could split open at any moment; before he could recover from his astonishment and fear, the sight before his eyes turned his face instantly pale, and his whole body went limp.
A person, no, it could no longer be called a person.
The figure in front of him was now just a highly decomposed corpse, emitting a foul stench, with flesh that had rotted away almost completely, revealing the ghastly white of bone underneath.
And that face, the red of blood and flesh clung to a skeleton, even the eyeballs were gone.
