C212

His body was resting in the morgue of the funeral parlor. His body was covered with a white cloth, but at this time, the white cloth had already been dyed scarlet by blood. In this gloomy environment, it looked extremely frightening.

Zhao Hai sat at the door in a daze, staring at the marble tiles, his eyes pitch black and purple, his hands full of imprints.

Sensing that we had appeared