"Drip... drip..."
Threads of fresh blood dripped from the long knife in Hao Jian's hand onto the ground, emitting a ticking sound. Before him lay countless corpses, sprawled across the open space in disarray. The blood from everyone pooled together, forming one crimson puddle after another, blending with the chilly night air.
A hellish tableau unfolded in the human world, stark and unforgiving. Yet Hao Jian's clothing remained spotless, free from even the slightest trace of blood. Apart from the long knife, neither his shoes nor the pristine white shirt bore any marks of the carnage.
Coupled with the perpetual, gentle smile upon his lips, he was akin to the God of Death...
"Buzz buzz buzz..."
At that moment, the ringtone of a mobile phone sounded. Hao Jian retrieved it and pressed the answer key. Soon after, Spice Ginger's voice came through.
