"Host! Host! Wake up!"
The system called out again and again, but Jiang Jiamian's awareness lay dormant, curled like a wounded creature in the shadowed depths of a boundless inner sea of consciousness. He could not see the light, nor hear the system's voice.
There was only endless darkness.
"Save me… Dad, please save me… It hurts so much…"
The young man was skin and bones, lying on the floor like a discarded corpse. His cheeks were so hollow, his bones so sharp, that it was hard to tell if he was still alive.
At this moment, streaks of blood were flowing down his eye sockets and crawling over the bruises on his face.
The eyeball on that side has become slightly pointed away, unfocused.
A frail hand latched onto the middle-aged man's pants. The voice, so weak that it seemed like a ghost's whisper, was full of pleading.
"I, I'll call 120!"
