Every second counted, and any extra movement could cost her life.
Her outstretched hand was trapped in the black mist, as if it had fallen into a sticky quagmire, and it was difficult to pull it back for a while.
Song qingxiao closed her eyes. The baby corpse was almost on her thigh.
She had experienced the fear of being climbed by a living corpse once in the underground parking lot. It was like the scariest nightmare that she would never want to experience again, but now she had no choice and had to experience it again.
The aura of death wrapped around her thigh, and the place where the baby corpse had crawled over was cold, numb, and stiff.
She grabbed the dagger with her free hand and was about to pick it down, but she touched her purse and was hit by a ball of ice.
That was the fly she caught from No. 17-4. After figuring out the source of the fly, she had planned to frame No. 2 and divert the trouble.
