The ceiling, which should have been pristinely white, was instead a shocking crimson, covered in a dense thicket of runes. They looked as if they had been written in fresh blood, and if one looked closely, they seemed to be pulsing. Shang Jingchen felt his scalp prickle and quickly looked away.
Ye Zhixing had warned him before that one must not stare at such runes, or they would be bewitched. He had kept her words firmly in mind.
Shang Nuannuan also glanced at the ceiling. She saw the runes flowing, shrouded in thick, heavy wisps of black aura. The red of the runes, caught within the black mist, was visually jarring. Suddenly, she felt a liquid dripping from above, accompanied by a foul, fishy stench—it must be blood. Her hair stood on end. If that stuff touched her, she felt she would have to scrub a layer of skin off just to feel clean again. She dared not think about how old the blood was or whose it might have been; the thought was too terrifying to dwell upon.
Chapter 367