"Heh heh."
"What a great place indeed."
Roger let out a sarcastic remark, swallowed his saliva, clenched his wooden stick, and cautiously walked into the graveyard.
Whether it was an illusion or not, he always felt the temperature here was extremely low; it seemed like a pair of eyes were silently peering at him from the shadowy face of each tombstone.
Crack!
He stepped on something unwittingly, and in the silence of the night, that sound was piercingly harsh.
He looked down to see half of a decayed bone-like object, a chill came over him, and only then did Roger notice a fine layer of sweat had formed on his back.
"Could this be some sort of trap?"
Now uncertain of what to do and stuck between continuing forward or retreating, he had no choice but to press on.
Truthfully, compared to real and terrifying monsters, he had a lower tolerance for ghosts and the like.
Those things always managed to make one's hair stand on end.
"Phew..."
