Icy, filthy water saturated Chen Mo’s thin clothes, a thousand frigid needles piercing deep into his skin, numbing his limbs with paralyzing cold. The bone-rending agony in his right shoulder blade was momentarily frozen by the extreme chill, offering a brief, narcotic respite. Clutching Zhang Hui’s unnervingly light, rigid form against him—a final shard of ice amidst the flood—he fled through the labyrinthine, damp corridors of the annex, a creature driven by primal desperation!
Each heavy footfall slapped against the cold, slick terrazzo, splashing murky water. His lungs rasped like broken bellows, each gasp tasting of blood and rust, his throat seared raw. Behind him, Hu Qiang’s footsteps—heavy, rapid, tolling like a hellish knell—pursued relentlessly! Each thudding step hammered
