The inherent sense of danger told Grace Webb that this was not a place to linger.
Ignoring her injuries, she raised her hand to sense any wind direction or else she would die from suffocation resulting from the poisonous gas!
This place was indeed too strange.
Completely beyond a normal person's imagination.
Grace's face grew increasingly pale, her hand started to tremble, yet she gritted her teeth against the pain. After all, she couldn't be sure if she wouldn't trigger any other hidden mechanisms here, depriving her of any chance of survival.
She took two steps.
Suddenly, she felt something unusual beneath her foot, as if she had stepped on something.
She lowered her head.
It was pitch black.
There was wind.
Grace leapt forward abruptly. There was a sharp noise against the wall, noises of bullets embedding: one, two, three...
Eight bullets!
Coming from different directions.
Even with superb agility, it would be difficult to escape this death trap.
