Why Does It Feel Like Everywhere in the Room

"So stinky!"

The Drunkard was completely sober now. He covered his nose and mouth, using his phone to shine a light into the doghouse.

To his surprise, there was nothing filthy inside.

"It looks clean, so why does it smell so bad? Even if the raw meat at my house went bad, it wouldn't have a stench this strong!"

Enduring his nausea, the Drunkard picked up a nearby tree branch and poked at the dirt inside the doghouse: "There's nothing buried underneath, either. Where is the smell coming from? Why does it feel like it has soaked into the wooden planks?"

The sound of messy footsteps outside grew closer. The Drunkard took a step back; he truly couldn't bear the Foul Stench any longer and climbed through a nearby window into the small building.

"I hope that Strange Family doesn't lead the Monster here." The Drunkard felt a vague sense of regret for calling the Middle-aged Man along in the first place—hadn't that just exposed his own location?

Holding his head, the Drunkard crouched beneath the windowsill and pinched himself again: "This definitely isn't a dream. What exactly was that thing just now? How could it run so fast with only its head left? Was it moving using its chin?"

In the Drunkard's view, the Strange Family was likely doomed, and he had no intention of trying to save them: "Aside from me, the passengers on the bus have probably all been wiped out. No one dares to face that thing; there's definitely no one..."

His brain still felt dizzy, and the Drunkard was drenched in a cold sweat: "What should I do now? My phone has no signal, and I don't even know where I am. Forget it, I'll just hide here until the thick fog clears."

Once bitten,