The ceiling, which should have been white, was instead a jarring crimson, covered in a dense web of runes.
The characters appeared to be written in fresh blood; if one looked closely, they seemed to be in motion. He felt his scalp prickle and quickly averted his gaze. Ye Zhixing had warned him earlier not to stare at such runes, lest he fall under their spell. Her words were still fresh in his mind.
Shang Nuannuan also glanced up at the ceiling. Seeing the runes shifting, wrapped in thick, heavy wisps of black malevolence, she felt the sheer intensity of the sight. Just then, she felt a liquid dripping from above, accompanied by a foul, fishy stench—it had to be blood. Her skin crawled. The thought of that stuff landing on her, requiring her to scrub her own skin raw to get clean, made her feel nauseated. She dared not think about how old the blood was or whose it might have been; the implications were too terrifying to contemplate.
Chapter 149