A few of them held their noses, enduring the foul stench as they entered the room.
The light inside was dim, the air so thick it felt like water could drip from it.
"Gag…"
The moment they stepped inside, one of the younger men couldn't help but dry heave.
On the room's dirt floor lay a corpse, long since gone rigid, curled into a ball. Its features were a blur, its skin a grotesque bluish-purple. Across its swollen face and exposed arms, a dense rash of inky black spots had spread. Some areas had even begun to ulcerate and ooze pus, releasing a sickly-sweet, metallic stench.
"Is that… Wang Ershou?"
Wang Youquan narrowed his cloudy old eyes. Steeling himself, he leaned in for a closer look. A moment later, he shot backward as if he were a cat whose tail had just been stepped on, his voice changing pitch:
"Back! Everyone get out! Now!"
Though they didn't understand, the men saw the elder's terror and didn't dare linger. They scrambled back out into the cold wind.
