Maybe Qian Xing was right, or maybe he was overthinking things. After all, it was just a face on the wall that hadn't flown towards him. Perhaps there was nothing to worry about. But given what had happened before, Qian Xing's concerns didn't seem excessive.
As he had hoped, Qian Xing rolled down the stairs. He did not suffer any serious injuries, with only some scrapes to his scalp and a trickle of fresh blood slowly sliding down his forehead, seeping into his eyes.
The world in Qian Xing's eyes turned a blood-like color, making for an exceptionally frightening sight. He quickly wiped his eyes with his arm but couldn't clean them effectively because his upper clothes, which were soaked, had been left in the house.