The collapsed wall pipes, spiderweb-like cracks madly spreading from a hole punched by a fist.
Stones fell, dust filled the air.
The figure of her father, Feng Ju, gradually came into focus—his mechanical arm emitting acrid white smoke, the Patrol Office uniform soaked in dark red blood, his left eye completely caked over with a scab.
But none of that caught her attention.
Her gaze was fixated on the camera on her father's shoulder.
The camera lens, filled with cracks, was aimed straight at her, the recording indicator light already extinguished, yet that pitch-black lens seemed like a bottomless vortex, swallowing all her inner focus.
A chilling sensation crept up her spine; it was a completely different kind of cold from the one felt when facing the monster earlier.
The former was dark, gloomy, and damp cold, while the latter was an unsettling chill under the blazing sun.
"Yuhuai... It's so good, you're okay!"
Her father's hoarse call pulled her back to reality.
