The drunkard stepped forward, bent down, and reached out to touch the "tattoo" on his chest. What his fingertips felt was only the texture of his skin. Frowning, the drunkard was unusually serious.
"This doesn't seem like a tattoo; it looks like it's grown from the skin."
"Grown, grown from it?" Wen Xiao'ai shuddered at the thought.
"How can a tattoo grow by itself?"
"This is not a tattoo," the drunkard insisted as he stared at the marking. After looking for too long, he felt a chill run down his spine and his scalp tingle.
This "tattoo" was not large, it had no head or body, only a ferocious face.
A dark and vicious aura seeped from its eyes, striking a fear into the soul, and the longer one gazed into them, the more one felt they could be dragged into hell.
The drunkard stood up straight and composed himself before saying, "This is beyond the scope of my medical expertise."
Qing Yi and Wen Xiao'ai leaned in curiously for a closer look.
