Those tiny eyes crowded the back of his head in dense clusters, interspersed with short, coarse black hair. The sight could have scared someone with trypophobia to death on the spot.
And that was with the eyes still closed.
If those eyes opened, the sheer horror of it would probably have everyone present vomiting for three days straight.
The moment Chu Qingjiu heard about the eyes, he knew Wu Zhong's condition had to be connected to the mass of flesh and eyes from last night.
His expression remained cold. He merely glanced at the gruesome state of the back of Wu Zhong's head before looking away.
Wu Zhong was still alive, and his mind was still clear. It was just that the itching at the back of his head kept making him scratch.
It seemed the mass of flesh and eyes hadn't eaten Wu Zhong the way it had eaten Yu Nian's head. But why?
"Do you feel unwell anywhere?"
Chu Qingjiu asked indifferently.
He seemed completely unfazed by the disgusting, horrifying sight. His composure stood in stark contrast to the sickly expressions of the other players.
Wu Zhong tried to keep scratching his head, but Zhao Yang stopped him. All he could do was grimace in unbearable discomfort and mumble, "No... it just itches so much. Let me scratch it."
A look of disgust crossed Zhao Yang's face as he restrained Wu Zhong's hands, keeping him from moving.
What would happen if he scratched one of the eyes open?
No one present knew. If these eyes were contagious, wouldn't everyone else be in danger too?
Whether out of disgust at the sight or concern for their own safety, the remaining players all agreed that they should tie Wu Zhong up.
Of course, neither Qi Wu nor Chu Qingjiu expressed