But Moh Shiche clearly could no longer speak. The phone slipped from his palm, and an unbearably itchy pain spread through his blood, violent and fierce…
Blood-red sweat dripped incessantly.
The handsome face of the man seemed soaked in blood, a demonic and distorted, yet beautiful, visage.
He wanted to reach for the medicine box, but he had already lost control, frantically trying to tear off the seat belt, grabbing all the sharp objects in the car and slashing them across his arms and body…
The thick scent of blood spread throughout the inside of the car.
Moh Shiche's brows were furrowed tightly, and a pained growl emanated from his throat, while his pupils began to alternate between black and red as if another person was struggling to burst out…
Eventually, he could no longer hold the steering wheel, and the sedan crashed straight into the bridge ahead!
...
