"Drip, drip~!"
The quiet night was utterly silent.
But at some point, clear drops of water began sounding from all around.
The sound did not come from the bathroom, but from the ceiling of the apartment building.
"Drip~!"
Another drop rang out.
The sound came from beside Yang Jian's bed.
A pungent smell of blood filled the air.
What dripped from the ceiling was not water, but scarlet blood.
Blood seeped through the cracks in the ceiling as though it could penetrate anything, and the amount gradually increased.
Soon, the entire ceiling had been stained blood-red.
Within the blood on the ceiling, the outline of a person could be seen. Its mouth hung open, its facial features were vague, and it struggled in agony like a tortured evil ghost, wailing and screaming in pain. Yet it all seemed so quiet, without the slightest sound.
Just then.
Yang Jian suddenly opened his eyes.
He had not been fully asleep, but was in a half-awake state, exceptionally sensitive to changes around him.
"Was that an illusion?"
After opening his eyes, he saw nothing unusual in the room.
There were no droplets falling from the ceiling, much less scarlet blood.
Everything from before seemed like an illusion, as though it had never existed.
"No, it wasn't an illusion." Yang Jian suddenly caught sight of a drop of scarlet blood beside his pillow, staining it red.
The blood was thick and viscous.
It carried a peculiar fishy stench, as if it had already rotted.
After thinking for a moment, Yang Jian's expression changed slightly. He immediately sat up, got out of bed, dressed, and headed outside.
The moment he stepped out.
Rows of scarlet footprints had been left in the corridor. The footprints were formed from congealed blood, as though someone had come through