Hundreds of people. Regardless of gender, regardless of position—anyone within the tourist area of Mount Fuji was doomed. Not a single one would survive!
Blood dyed the cherry blossoms red. Blood illuminated the night.
The choking, pungent stench of blood seemed to transform the surrounding miles into a vast slaughterhouse.
Wherever Hua Xiaotian went, no one was spared. Within the range of his senses, nothing survived.
The insects chirped.
The birds cried out.
The cherry blossoms wept.
No one could have expected it, not even Qin Fan. Hua Xiaotian, spurred to the brink of insanity by the after-effects of the slaughter, had painted a scene where no man or beast was left alive.
A few minutes later, the song came to an end.
Hua Xiaotian, his body completely unstained by blood, returned to the car. Seeing Qin Fan still comfortably listening to music in the back seat, he reported, "Master Qin, it's done!"
"Feel better?" Qin Fan turned, his eyes meeting Hua Xiaotian's.
