Alex's hands couldn't help but tremble; he lowered his head to check the situation more carefully. Glen's face was like wax, deathly pale without a drop of blood, and his body also exuded a thick aura of death. His left wrist had a deep vertical cut, and the fresh blood that had flowed out had long dried into black streaks on the brick floor.
But strangely, livor mortis did not appear on Glen's body, nor did his muscles show the characteristic signs of rotting or decomposition. This guy probably wouldn't go so far as to hide here and secretly commit suicide over a broken heart or debt. Alex breathed a sigh of relief, trying to think optimistically, speculating that Glen had used some special ability of his sect to make his soul leave his body, venturing into the Shadowlands six feet underground to seek forbidden power or knowledge.
