滴答,滴答.
Thick blood pooled above the chair, then dripped down like rain, covering the man and making him even more mysterious and inscrutable.
The man sitting on the chair slowly raised his head, "looking" at the ceiling. However, under the illumination of the safety helmet light, that face remained as obscure as when he lowered his head, shrouded in a layer of impenetrable black fog, with no discernible features, and it was uncertain if the man had a face at all.
Suddenly, in less than half a second, a broad black hand extended from the man's face towards Qian Cangyi. The hand's arm was thin as a bamboo stick, not resembling a human form, and it had an astonishing flexibility, more like a rope than an arm.
