My lungs were burning, as if I had swallowed a handful of red-hot iron sand.
Lin Ye covered the wound on his abdomen and staggered into a dead end. The smell of blood and rust mixed together and surged up from his throat, and he resisted spitting it out.
Behind him, the messy and heavy footsteps were getting closer and closer, like the death drum beating on his heart.
"Damn, look where you're going!"
A hoarse voice exploded at the entrance of the alley, carrying a cat-and-mouse banter.
Lin Ye leaned against the cold wall, breathing heavily. The stab wound on his abdomen was not deep, but the blood loss made him dizzy and his strength was draining away rapidly. He could feel that the weak "power" in his body, which had just awakened not long ago, had become intermittent due to injuries and fatigue, and was unable to support him in another collision.
Dead end.
These two words came to his mind.
