As the thick stench of blood wafted to his nose, Song Zhuyu's breath seized, his pupils constricting sharply. Sensing something, he instinctively looked up and found the familiar silhouette of 46 hovering in midair, gazing at the chaotic scene below with nary an expression on his face.
"W–What happened to Su Hai?!"
"Blood… you have so much blood on your shirt…!"
Ma Xiaocai buried her face in her hands and wailed out loud, her cries sounding particularly morose and heartrending. Even with the help of the villagers, she could barely stand on her own feet. Despite the questions thrown at her, she only shook her head and sobbed, seemingly too shaken to even form a coherent sentence.
Meanwhile, Song Zhuyu's eyes went past the crowd toward the open door, his fists clenching in determination. This was his chance!
