The shadow on the wall slowly sat up and turned its head bit by bit.
Illuminated by the faint light, the two hollows within the shadow's silhouette, like a pair of eyes, stared at him coldly and eerily.
Song Yutang's breathing halted, feeling as though the chill rising up his spine had seized his body and soul.
He wanted to struggle; however, the sensation of being overwhelmed by a rotting smell, the suffocating feeling of being wrapped in a damp and cold breath, rendered him immobile.
He felt as if he had unknowingly become a corpse, placed into a coffin, nailed shut, and buried under the soil...
From now on, he would only be able to live a dark life within this narrow, damp tomb, watching grass roots penetrate the sticky clay on his face, watching maggots writhing in the soil, through windswept rains, from spring to autumn.
At that moment, Song Yutang came to a sudden realization.
Is this it? Is this everything that the ghostly shadow on the wall had once felt...
