Chen Mo is not dead. He opened his eyes, and there was skinned and dead flesh stuck to the road under his feet, and a countdown hourglass was embedded in his neck. In front of him was a dilapidated inn bleeding with pus and blood, and the rules were like red-hot nails piercing into his brain: lights out, death. Sleep and die. One look at the darkness outside the door and you will die immediately. The "letter" in the backyard was a deadly deal. On this road of devouring the flesh and blood of living people, every second of living is a time of flesh-chopping and cramping. The hourglass is bleeding, the rules are a noose, and something in the dark is waiting for him to let go...
Motto: Life is more painful than death