In a gloomy basement, the air was thick with a smell of decay, faintly tinged with the scent of blood. Congealed dark bloodstains covered the blood-spattered floor like blooming flowers in every corner. Dim, flickering lights barely managed to illuminate a small patch of space. Shadows danced on the walls, making it feel as though countless eyes were peering out at you, sending a chill down your spine.
Yet when you mustered the courage to look again, you found it was merely your own illusion, as if it had never been there at all.
From the depths of the basement came a series of low, ragged gasps—sometimes rapid, sometimes slow, resembling the breathing of the Grim Reaper. Every single sound made the heart contract, as if death were imminent. The bloodstains on the walls looked even more terrifying and eerie in the faint light.
Chapter 114