In the darkness, the mechanical roar synchronized with the conveyor belt's rapid movement, making it nearly impossible for Chang Nian to even keep her footing.
Therefore, even though her left hand had been pierced by an iron spike, there was no need to pull it out. She could only let it remain embedded in her palm, where it at least provided some stability.
But what followed was piercing agony, charging forward with the speeding machinery, nearly crushing her to pieces.
"Crushing" was no exaggeration. That would be Chang Nian's fate in a few seconds.
Even if she did not know what this machine was, it was clearly the kind that meant certain death for any living person who touched it. She had to escape—but how?
She could see nothing and make out nothing, like a blind person stumbling around in chaos. She did not dare make any unnecessary movements, lest she hasten her own death.
But death no longer needed any help to arrive.
"This machine is the ghost's blade, but I can't get rid of the ghost holding it for now. I can only escape first.
"This old factory, this rotten air, these rusted machines—there must be a flaw here..."
There had to be a flaw. But finding it while knowing nothing, with death rapidly closing in under such extreme circumstances, was far too difficult.
Just then, Chang Nian's Hair Strands, which had been flying wildly from her rapid movement, suddenly curled up.
The conveyor belt seemed to have entered a narrow passage. It was wide enough for Chang Nian to pass through, yet it wound up her loose long hair, as if countless rollers lined both sides of the belt.
Bang!
Her left hand slammed into something, and everything below her wrist immediately went numb from the impact.