The night was as dark as ink, the pure moon hung high, its light frosty as it scattered among the mountains and forests.
The wind on the mountaintop blew fiercely, the rustling leaves casting sinister, jagged shadows on the ground.
Rustle rustle rustle—
Among the shadows, a dark figure writhed, causing a louder rustling of the leaves on the ground.
Chuzheng sat up from the fallen leaves, reaching behind her.
Her hand touched a warm, sticky liquid.
Chuzheng lifted it to her face, calmly examining it in the moonlight.
Blood!
Which bastard cut open my back!
Doesn't it hurt?!
Chuzheng couldn't see the condition of her back, but she could feel the blood continuously flowing.
If this continued, she would die from excessive blood loss.
Chuzheng searched her body but didn't find anything like a phone.
Chuzheng propped herself up, feeling dizzy.
The night wind carried the scent of blood into the distance, where there seemed to be the howling of wolves.