As she stared, Chang Nian's burning face took on an unnaturally sickly flush beneath the icy rain.
Her swaying body looked frail in the wind and rain, like a fallen leaf that could be blown away at any moment.
She had chosen this place to bury Tong Guan, yet there were no bones to bury—only a severed head.
Rainwater ran in chaotic streams through the black soil. The pit, over a meter deep, looked like an abyss that could swallow everything.
This unremarkable hole in the earth had become the dividing line between life and death, severing the last tangible connection between the living and the dead.
The grave was ready.
But Chang Nian sat slumped on the slope, staring blankly into the pit with Tong Guan's severed head in her arms, unable to make the decision.
Sometimes her arms tightened, as though she wanted to hold her dead husband forever; sometimes they loosened slightly, as though she had resolved to give him a dignified farewell.
Paralysis, bitter cold, soaking rain...
Everything beautiful had vanished from Chang Nian's world. All that remained was the gray sky and the suffocating downpour.
After an unknown stretch of time, she suddenly clutched the severed head and hurried down the slope, heading straight for the black sedan whose engine had long been shut off, and Fang Shenyan, who was smoking inside.
In the East District Industrial Zone, the situation escalated again within a mere fifteen minutes.
A long time had passed since Gu Qingyun's first act of retaliation. The second round had begun five minutes ago.
According to his account, the sacrifices were chosen at random. As the first manager unlucky enough to be selected, Xue Tingtao was terrified out of his mind!
At that moment, in some nameless alley, Xue Tingtao lay