Dark.
Endless darkness.
Lin Ye's consciousness seemed to have sunk into the deep sea, with cold pressure squeezing from all directions, crushing him into a blur of flesh and blood. The smell of earth and the musty smell of rotting wood lingered on the tip of his nose. The two smells mixed together and penetrated into his lungs, causing a violent cough. But he almost didn't have the strength to cough.
The air... Is gone.
The chest is like a bellows that has been pulled repeatedly, and every time it expands in vain, it brings heart-piercing burning pain. He stretched out his hand, and his fingertips touched the rough and cold wooden board, which still had a damp and sticky feeling. It's a coffin. He was lying in a thin-skinned coffin.
And where was it buried?
Probably the remote mass grave in the back hill of the Su family.
