When Feng Yuhuai crawled out of the underground tunnel, the backside of Upper City had dimmed considerably.
Unlike the damp darkness of the underground pipelines, the air on the surface was suffocatingly still, permeated with the sickly sweet smell of rust and decaying flesh.
The campus was deathly silent.
The hollow windows of the school building were like countless open mouths, yet not a single sound emerged;
The corridors, which should have echoed with the sounds of study, now had nothing but the rustle of papers being turned by the wind;
The track field showed no signs of sweating figures, only dark brown stains of blood seeping into the rubber granules.
Even the always scolding dean was nowhere to be seen.
Oh wait, there he was, embedded at a bizarre angle between the two gilded words 'Eighth Academy', his shattered skull and brain matter deeply soaked into the stone material.
