Clang!
A metal door slowly opened, and the creaking old doorknob produced a groan.
At the same time, a gust of cold wind blew in from the outside. The strong wind was mixed with snowflakes as it hit the four people's faces like blades. Tojo subconsciously touched his face, only to find it ice-cold.
"Snow?" asked Tojo subconsciously. However, when he placed his hand in front of him, his eyes instantly widened. It was not snow, but blood!
"Blood, it's blood! Where is this? Tojo, where is this?" the youngest Sakata exclaimed with a sobbing tone.
"Tojo, Sakata, Yamamoto, where… Where are we? This can't be hell, right?" Matsushita's voice was trembling. It was obvious that he was frightened.
Yamamoto said, "Our spirits and souls belong to Japan. Even if we die, we shouldn't have to enter the hell that belongs to the shinajin. We should be in Japan's heaven."
