As Mr. Will spoke, he trudged along with heavy steps, each one feeling like it carried a thousand pounds of weight; his tall frame cloaked in melancholy, making it clear to anyone that he was a man in mourning.
He was very familiar with this place and, instead of crossing the busy streets, he followed the uneven alleyways uphill.
The slope was steep—looking from the street to the top of the alley, it rose at least forty degrees. Each step Mr. Will took seemed exceptionally laborious; Ye Jian even saw him stumble several times, nearly falling backwards.
Bright red blood trailed all the way, meandering upward with alarming splotches.
Ye Jian lowered her head slightly, silently following behind White Crane, who was walking ahead holding the boy; with Xia Jinyuan behind Mr. Will, and White Crane in the middle, Ye Jian brought up the rear.
