The heavy iron door rattled loudly, but the fine needle inserted into the lock remained unmoved. Wang Jiao stared goggle-eyed at the stark contrast in the scene before him.
"Prison guard, what are you doing?" Wang Jiao's mind seemed to crash; his fear was burned away by the overloaded CPU in his head.
Chen Ya stood beside him, answering earnestly, "I'm locking the door!"
Wang Jiao pointed to the horrific bloodshed on the floor, his throat dry and hoarse, "They're dead, dead! And you're still locking the door?"
Chen Ya's expression was serious and earnest, "Yes, according to the planned division of labor, I'm responsible for guarding the door, preventing him from leaving, while you all are supposed to kill him."
Wang Jiao stuttered, "But, but can't you see, they're all dead? We've failed!"
Chen Ya frowned and spoke with a resonant voice, like the way he used to inspire everyone's morale, "You're still alive, aren't you?"
Wang Jiao: "What?"
