The blood sprayed out a full ten meters, painting the ceiling overhead, the distant bookcases, and even the screen in the corner all a dark red. The air was thick with a rich, decayed, bloody scent, as if one had abruptly arrived on a battlefield.
Yuan Hong was shocked and pale.
He immediately dashed forward a step, reaching out to support Song Pingzhang's arching, convulsing back, "Brother Pingzhang, what has happened to you?"
Song Pingzhang's limbs were violently twitching, his face twisted in agony, and a blackened hand clung desperately to Yuan Hong's arm. His eyes bulged outwards, bloodshot and continuously swelling with blood. Opening his mouth, he seemed to want to say something, but gushes of blood mixed with chunks of viscera sprayed out.
This scene was incredibly horrifying, as if he was about to cough out every organ in his body alive.
