The gray fog is not the morning mist.
It comes without warning.
At 10:30 in the morning, Lu Zhou was watering the succulents on the windowsill. The sun is good and the light is bright. He could even smell a hint of earthy fragrance in the air.
The next second, the world lost its color.
An indescribably thick gray wave surged in from the end of the skyline and swallowed up the entire city in an instant. The light was deprived, as if a huge curtain was suddenly pulled up, and the world fell into an oppressive darkness.
Not clouds, not haze.
It was a "textured" fog. Lu Zhou stretched out his hand, and immediately felt a sticky feeling on his fingertips. The mist clung to the skin, carrying a sweet, rotten smell, like fruit left in a sealed can for three months.
Then, the sound exploded.
Not a sound.
It's a mixture of countless sounds. Someone was screaming, someone was crying, and... Other sounds. A roar that does not belong to the human world, a "click" sound of bones rubbing against the ground, and a squirming sound of mucus that makes the scalp numb.
