The surroundings were draped in the somber palette of gray, dark green, and brown, heightening the stark contrast of crimson blood staining the long flight of stairs.
The sight pierced Song Zhuyu's eyes even from afar, and with a single tilt of his head, he could see the body on the base of the stairs whose head was cracked open and limbs twisted in an unnatural angle. The trees loomed tall around him, as if bearing silent witness to the warmth of life that slowly faded from his skin.
For a timeless moment, Song Zhuyu's mind went blank. His breathing, his heartbeat, and the flow of blood beneath his veins— all seemed to come to a halt, leaving only a persistent ringing beside his ears.