Her hair hung loose, caked with grime and dried blood, matted together in clumps. Through the tangled mess, a terrifying, scar-covered face was faintly visible. Her arms, too, were riddled with wounds that refused to heal, constantly oozing blood.
"Is it… a young girl?"
Ye Ming frowned and stood up. After scrutinizing the figure, he could just barely make out that it was a girl.
She was much smaller than an average girl and, by her appearance, looked to be thirteen or fourteen at most. She was also utterly wretched and filthy.
He had first thought she was wearing a black robe, but a closer look revealed that her clothes were simply soaked through with blood, which had then dried and hardened into a solid crust.
It was impossible to know how long it had been since they were washed; whatever color the robes had originally been, they were now stained completely black.
"The age of the Ghost Race can't be judged by their appearance…"
