The lake churned violently. The smiling figurines buried deep in the despair turned around. They looked at the God of Flesh and Blood with bloody eyes. The God of Blood and Despair escaped the haunting of fate through various methods. He was revived through Gao Ming and became the only living divine ghost in Han Hai.
The eight arms cut through the black lake to grab at the death portrait. The thin photograph felt like it weighed a thousand tons. God’s arms bulged with veins. The four faces roared with joy and pain as God tried to pick the picture up. The waves moved as all the shadows tried to swallow the God of Flesh and Blood. The way the broken figurines looked at the God of Flesh and Blood was filled with envy.
“It is mine! It is mine, be it inside or outside the dream!” A familiar voice came from the corner of the torture room. Both Situ An and Gao Ming heard it.
“Who is speaking? Is it Gong Xi or the God of Flesh and Blood?”
The colourful patterns on the torture room walls appeared on God’s skin. The torture devices trembled. God gave it his all to turn the picture over before more figurines awakened.
Gao Ming and Xuan Wen finally saw the picture. It had the bloody city as its background. The city hid thirteen survivors.
Situ An, who was wearing the lapel of the chief of Han Hai Investigation Centre, stood before his mother’s grave. His body was the clearest, but it had turned black and white, becoming a part of the city.
Xia Yang, with a paintbrush and knitted sweater, sat in the classroom. He painted his own corpse lazily. Similar to Situ An, his body was devoid of colour, but his painted corpse was immensely colourful.
Then, it was Jing Tuoshen whom Gao Ming had seen at the east city investigation centre. The beautiful man was a germaphobe. He stood in the bath, cleaning himself, but the bath had no water. The thing that flowed out of the showers and faucets was blood. The more he cleaned his body, the dirtier he was.
Gao Ming took a closer look and found himself in the picture. He was on a running bus. The bus was filled with carcasses of his classmates, and he was the only one alive. The strangest thing was the surviving student looked like him in terms of body frame, but his face was blurred out. He was the only survivor whose face couldn’t be seen clearly.
“You are reborn in my heart, so you are a part of me. You should follow my consciousness.”
With Gao Ming’s intervention, Gong Xi’s face of life swallowed the special death portrait.
The portrait, sustained by endless mud figurines, entered the body. The God of Flesh and Blood changed instantly. He became larger and seemed to have united with the city under his feet. The cause and effect were severed. The world, in the eyes of Life’s Face, changed. He seemed to see the waking world.
The other faces and the nearby broken figurines revealed envy. These dead Gods once lived in the waking world, but something happened to them. They opened their eyes and turned around as they tried to shred the God of Flesh and Blood alive.
Gao Ming stood on God’s shoulders, and his heart raced. The God of Flesh and Blood required time to digest the latest portrait. After all, it was the picture of a whole city.
The sharp claw pierced through the meat wall. With the cooperation of the patients and the force on the other side of the wall, the weakest spot crumbled.
The shrill screams echoed. Then, endless curses crawled into the fleshy walls.
The patients didn’t have the time to escape before they were knocked back into the intestine.
“What a crowded place.”
The leader of Team Three dragged a coffin in his left hand and carried a slab of wall on his right as he blocked the opening.