The quieter it is, the more restless it is.
The whole room is like an art exhibition dedicated to blood, with a sense of reality and impact. Blood is spattered everywhere on the walls, making people involuntarily imagine the dynamic scenes at that time. The gray-haired male lay on his back on the bed, the milky white pillow already dyed crimson. The neck connecting the head and body was almost severed, and the white neck bones were exposed.
Zhang Dong turned to look at the half-opened bedroom door. Min Bao, who was still sleeping soundly, might not even know that the God of Death was so close to him.
Conception: