Chen Ke slowly ascended the stairs, his revolver itching to be fired. There were no shadows of people in sight, yet the footsteps were crystal clear.
The sound was not something a 19th-century leather shoe could make. Rather, it resembled the noise of iron-clad armor shifting with each step.
He stepped over a maid whose eyes were bleeding, her chest punctured by something sharp and badly mangled; white ribs were turned inside out, jutting halfway out of the chest cavity.
Upon reaching the second-floor corridor, Chen Ke immediately saw the slowly pacing iron armor at the end of the hallway. That was his full set of An Helei's Lament.
It moved like a person, step by step, leisurely striding and making a crunching sound with each motion. The armor's surface was coated with a layer of blood, with something resembling veins draped over the shoulder guards.
Dense clumps of blood-red flesh bubbled on its stomach and chest plates, rhythmically contracting as though breathing.
