Long Bei wrapped his arms around something sticky, but it felt as if he had embraced a blazing brazier. Amid a shrill scream, he frantically shoved and kicked, half-flinging, half-kicking the thing back. It immediately fell to the floor. Something in its structure seemed to have broken, and something rolled out, rumbling through the gap beneath the door and stopping at Long Bei's feet.
Then the phone's light swept over it, confirming it was a deformed, swollen head.
Much of its tissue had dissolved. It was only recognizable as a head.
The iron door was then pushed open. Wang Peilie exerted himself with equal parts nausea and relief, revealing more of the space inside and confirming there were no other dangers.
Ang Tun had resigned himself by then. Covering his nose, he stepped forward voluntarily to assess the situation.
What had just "embraced" Long Bei face-to-face was a mutilated corpse missing its right arm and right leg. There was an unstitched gash across its chest and abdomen, and it was clear that several organs had been removed. It had likely been half-propped against the heavy iron door before. The vibrations from their footsteps, or perhaps their contact with the door, had caused it to slide down. Its head had rolled off as well, leaving it completely separated from its body.
Under the light, the head's mouth hung slightly open, a black hollow with not a single tooth left. Rotten skin and flesh clung to its eye sockets as it faced the ceiling.
"The corpse isn't decaying normally." Ang Tun gave it a quick glance and reached a preliminary conclusion. "The cause of death may have been a broken cervical spine, which is why the head came off so easily. It was soaked in Formalin, and some organs were removed, but