The neon lights of the city sparkled, intermingling with the delicate snowflakes to form a dark and hauntingly beautiful scene. Biting cold wind swept through, lifting the snow off the ground, only to drop it a few dozen centimeters above onto a pair of bloodstained white shoes, obscuring their original appearance, then melting into droplets.
At their feet lay bodies, scattered haphazardly.
Some of them still breathed feebly, while others had been chilled through and through by the snowy, cold night.
The owner of the shoes moved forward a few steps, her slim hand reaching down to pick up equipment that had fallen into the snow, now mixed with bloodstained water.
Sound came from the door leading to the rooftop.
Looking up, she saw Shen Wenhong's dark silhouette.
His gaze toward Shen Yan was equally cold and foreboding.
"It's you."
He almost yelled, but the sound that escaped was not loud, but rather, a repressed hoarseness.
