When Mo opened his eyes, he felt like he was soaked in ice water.
No, not ice water. It's blood.
The sticky liquid soaked into the fabric of his back, emitting a fishy smell like rust. He wanted to move, but his limbs felt like lead, and only his eyes could barely move.
Where is this?
What you see is a dilapidated ancestral hall, with cobwebs on the beams thick. The two white candles on the altar table were burned down to their roots, and the flames were a strange green color. As the candlelight flickered, it illuminated seven or eight people lying in various directions on the ground - all wearing soap-red uniforms and motionless.
