This space was pitch-black, devoid of light, sound, and almost everything, yet Mr. Blood Cloak felt a kind of indescribable peace, as if this was the place where he truly belonged.
Indeed, the realm of the dead was the most suitable place for a corpse, and not long ago, he had completely forsaken his life and plunged headfirst into the domain of death.
Is this what it feels like for the dead to slumber? Not bad at all.
Desires associated with the flesh such as hunger and lust had all faded away, but the cravings of the spirit were still alive and kicking, the pursuit of power and revenge still deeply rooted in his spirit, reminding him that he had not become a walking corpse.
A burst of laughter suddenly echoed out of place in this space, as cold and strange as a scavenging vulture, yet it carried a sense of frailty and decay.
