"A Yuan."
Yu An grabbed Mo Yan's hand. He had smelled it too.
The smell grew stronger the farther down they went. Yu An frowned, taking out a homemade mask and putting it on.
After walking a bit further, a faint light appeared ahead, and the two of them became even more cautious.
When they reached the bottom of the stairs, a giant pool appeared before Yu An's eyes, filled to the brim with blood-red liquid.
As they drew closer, the metallic stench of blood became overpowering. Yu An clamped a hand over her nose, on the verge of gagging.
Just as she had seen in Meng Fanxin's memories, there was a raised platform in the very center of the pool. Oh, and an old man.
The old man sat cross-legged with his eyes closed, and it was impossible to tell if he was dead or alive. Yu An sent a vine forward to poke him.
No movement. No breath. 'Looks like he's dead,' she thought.
Yu An retracted the vine and took out her camera, snapping a flurry of pictures.
