If the first open area had evoked the weirdness of bizarre deaths,
then in this second area, Ji Li only felt as though something had smashed into his chest, leaving him heavy-hearted and unable to breathe under the pressure.
The same area, the same setting, but this time the scene was broader, more expansive, and far more violent.
One shattered head after another was mangled beyond recognition, their features completely indistinguishable. They had burst apart like watermelons crushed under pressure, rind and pulp scattered everywhere.
The intact concrete floor was riddled with cracks that formed a spiderweb. In the center of every interwoven web stood iron spikes that had smashed through human heads, like anonymous gravestones.
Strangely, there was no blood left behind, yet the word "mess" was embodied here to the utmost degree.
This place resembled a graveyard, but also a watermelon field. Rotten watermelons and their vines had been sealed beneath the ground by nameless gravestones. As for what lay underground, it had become a place no living person could investigate.
What truly caught Ji Li's attention—and what he found hard to accept—was the headless corpse lying silently amid this watermelon field.
There was not a trace of blood on those black clothes. The body had merely picked up dust from lying on the ground.
Though headless, it had no wound. The neck was so neat and even that it looked as though the head had not been cut off, but simply carried away.
A section of anonymous gravestone stood conspicuously beside the corpse, while a puddle of human tissue, shattered beyond further recognition, lay quietly nearby.
This iron spike was completely different from all the others, because it had almost entirely pierced into the ground, with only a finger-length section left exposed.
Not far from the corpse,