Hundreds of human heads, hundreds of different faces, lined up segment by segment to form a terrifying centipede that thrust straight into the sky.
Two pallid arms grew from the sides of each head, waving unconsciously in the air as though scratching at something invisible.
The scene looked like a painting that had spilled out of hell and been forcibly nailed into reality.
Brother Biao's eyes nearly popped out of their sockets. His mouth hung wide open, but he could not make a sound.
He was utterly stupefied.
No, every cell in his brain had been destroyed by sheer terror. He had even lost the ability to scream.
The thing moved.
It slowly bent down, extending its end nearest the ground toward the five vehicles.
The head at the very bottom belonged to a woman.
A woman's head.
Her face was as pale as paper, but her lips were as scarlet as blood. Her eyes were hollow and lifeless, like two dried-up wells.
Her disheveled hair hung down like black waterweed, drifting slowly in the air.
Her hands were crossed before her chest, all ten fingers fluttering as though manipulating something.
In the distance, Yang Yong saw this.
At that moment, he finally understood.
Why had those five vehicles suddenly changed direction?
Why had they lined up in a straight line?
Why had they driven uncontrollably in the same direction?
Because of that woman's head.
She had done something.
Her ability was to beguile, to control, to distort people's perceptions and alter their consciousness.
That was why the drivers of those five vehicles had fallen under her influence several kilometers away.
They thought... they were fleeing away from her, but in reality, they had been driving toward her all along.
Yang Yong's eyelids twitched.
"Every head... is an independent individual,