She was cut in half.
The upper half of her body, less than a meter long, was covered in fresh blood. Her hair was soaked with blood, and her face was filled with terror; her eyes were wide open, her mouth agape, as if she had been screaming frantically before her death.
This less-than-a-meter-long torso was strung by a rope from the ceiling, fresh blood continuously dripping from her severed waist, falling onto Keke's face.
Cang Yue... was completely dead.
Keke wiped her face and struggled to sit up, but her hand landed on something chillingly cold.
She looked down and saw her hand pressing on a nearly broken neck.
Looking down from the neck, she saw a cold body wearing familiar clothing.
Looking up, she saw a face twisted by sheer terror.
It was Xia Jianren.
He was dead.
His body lay sprawled across their path, having tripped them.
The flashlight illuminated the area. Wang Chuan was staring dumbstruck at Cang Yue's upper half hanging above, momentarily unable to react.
