C84

My father was the first to enter the room, but he could not step on the next step, much less step on it. Cold sweat the size of soybeans hung on his nose as he tottered.

Beneath his feet was mud. To be more precise, it was the black "fire oil" that they had previously stepped on. It was so sticky that he could not move at all. But this was not all. Right in front of that drop of cold sweat