Two o'clock in the morning, Jiangcheng Central Hospital.
The emergency room was brightly lit, but eerily quiet.
Lin Mo stood at the door of the No. 3 Emergency room. The stinging sensation in his right eye had subsided, replaced by a cold numbness. Through the closed door, he could "see" the person lying inside - a young man wearing a takeout uniform, with a twisted steel bar inserted into his chest, and his vital signs were rapidly declining.
But what really sent chills down Lin Mo's spine wasn't the injury.
It's the "thing" wrapped around that person.
The gray-black mist, like countless tiny tentacles, drilled out of the wound and then in again. There were countless distorted human faces wailing vaguely in the mist. Lin Mo had never seen those faces before, but they felt inexplicably familiar - they were the breath of a curse, and they had the same origin as the power residing in his right eye, but they were more chaotic and violent.
