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The one lying on the floor was Yu Pengliang. Face twisted with fear, he pressed his hands to his neck, yet blood continued to gush out through the gaps between his fingers.
He opened his mouth to say something, but all that came out was air, and blood spurted from the corners of his mouth.
Soon, his head drooped and his hands went slack, unmoving.
“He…he killed him!”
“Help! Help…”
The other two boys had collapsed to the floor, legs feeling weak. They scrambled backward and struggled to pick themselves back up before rushing through the metal door, fleeing downstairs.
Gao Yang felt his hair stand on end.
A figure stood by the railing at the edge of the rooftop. It was Li Zhuanghu.
In his hand was an object glowing an eerie red.
His expression...
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