Inside the deep green military tent, it was full of bloodstains.
Under the camp lamp hanging from the top of the tent, several patches of blood reflected the light.
The closest person, Wu Ya, had a few drops of splattered blood on her face, and she stood frozen as if petrified.
Tian Wang's rounded body shook frantically like a quail, and his pants gradually became wet.
The whole scene exuded a kind of absurd, uncanny post-modern flavor.
Lv Bai turned around, picked up a blanket, and wiped the bloodstains off the Eight-sided Han Sword.
Even just a small gesture of bending down made Wu Ya and Ke Jiangni involuntarily take half a step back.
There was no other choice, even though they had witnessed many zombies with mangled flesh while fleeing along the way.
But killing a person and killing a zombie, although not much different in appearance, felt completely different to an onlooker.
