Lin Hao hunched over and dug his skinny fingers into the mud accumulated by rotten leaves. Every breath he took had a rusty smell. Sweat smeared his eyes and stung him, but he didn't dare to raise his hand to wipe it. The sky above the head that should have been gray was now rolling with an almost solidified dark red color, like a scab from a huge wound, weighing down so heavily that one's spine creaked.
