In the cold corner of the prison yard, a few newly transferred inmates gathered silently, their expressions heavy, lifting two bodies from the ground in pairs with great effort.
The bodies were so pale that there was almost no trace of blood, with white foam at the corners of their mouths and hair that stood up as if struck by electricity, looking exceptionally terrifying.
Wang Jiao struggled to thread his hands through the armpits of the body, carefully lifting it up slowly.
A burnt meat smell filled the air, stimulating his sense of smell, causing his stomach to churn and almost throw up.
Chen Ya stood opposite Wang Jiao, tightly holding the feet of the corpse.
The two followed a prison guard, carrying the corpse with heavy steps towards the crematorium inside the prison.
