The cold wind cuts like a sword.
Blood spots spread and diffuse across the river, with chunks of flesh floating on the surface.
What happened?
What's going on?
Turbid sweat slides down the forehead, unfocused pupils gather again, the bright sun is piercing, Hedban's ears are bleeding, his Adam's apple rolls, dry and panicky.
Dead?
Bai Xingwen... dead?
In an encounter, in a flash of lightning.
"Ah, ah..."
Chai Gou's throat seems blocked, his trachea tightly closed in his chest, he gasps for air, as if his lips were shallow pools on the sun-baked earth in the heat of July, drying and cracking into a dense web of dead, white skin.
Thud, thud.
The henchman behind recognizes a human head, kneels down on the deck, the water stains spread along his trousers, trembling all over.
It's over.
All is lost.
Young Master Bai is dead!
