Ren Qiang died, just so unexplained, died in front of my eyes.

My scalp tingled, and my hands and feet were cold at the horror of the scene.

Walked to the stairs not far away and squatted down, holding his hands at the hair on his head.

I only felt that my whole body seemed to be wrapped tightly with layers of plastic wrap, and no matter how hard I struggled, I couldn't break through them and find myself again.

Why is this happening, why is this happening?

I kept repeating the phrase in my mouth, my eyes fixed on the dirty concrete floor, and my mind was in a daze.

A slender stream of blood slowly crept up from above my vision to my feet.

The surface of the red blood, reflecting the strange colors, was like a reptile covered with poisonous sores, slowly squirming towards me.

It made my stomach tumble for a while.

A wisp of sour pain finally hit my throat, making me unbearable, and Ou's throat spit out.

All around, men and women of all shapes and sizes slowly gathered in front of me and surrounded Ren Qiang's body in the middle.

The noise was mixed with the screams of the women and the occasional rapid siren in the distance.

In my head, it was like a hodgepodge of boiled pots, and in my ears, it was like a little person beating a drum in it, and it was making a tomming noise.

I vomited again and again, and finally I vomited all the contents of my stomach.

In this way, my consciousness has only come back a little.

I shook my head hard and stood up.

The passers-by looked at me with curious eyes.

It's like I'm a freak and shouldn't be on this occasion.

An old man walked up to me, patted me on the shoulder, and asked, "Oh, young man, do you know this man?"

I turned my head and looked at his face, looking at the lively and big smile, and my heart felt sad.

For the least reverence of life, I pushed him away, took off the coat on his body, walked over, and gently covered the coat on Ren Qiang's face.

When I stood up again, looked through the crowd, and saw the Maserati not far away, still glowing red, my anger rose to the sky.

I squeezed through the crowd and walked over to the luxury car, wanting to see who was sitting in the car.

When I got close to the car, there was also a group of people around there, pointing at the car, and two people were trying to open the door.

I tried to separate the crowd, and a young man accused me of squeezing him and wanted to reason with me.

I pushed him away with one hand and fell three feet away.

The onlookers, seeing my fierce look, all took several steps back.

I stepped forward and tried to open the deformed door.

The door seemed to be welded shut, and under my hard pulling, it collapsed, and the whole door splashed out, almost causing me to stumble and fall to the ground.

I slammed the door on the ground behind me with my backhand, sending debris from the concrete floor scattered everywhere to stabilize my figure.

There was an exclamation behind him, and those people were even more afraid of me, and they all ran away in twos and threes.

Only a few bold ones remained, not far away, not far away.

I looked into the cab, and behind the fat airbag, a slender young man, dyed with red hair, was slumped into the seat, with no air in and out.

I frowned slightly, and saw that the heart in his chest was still beating rhythmically, so I stepped forward and slapped him twice on his pale face.

The red fur snorted twice, and finally covered his neck and came to his senses.

With a dazed face, he climbed out of the embarrassment cab by himself, stood in front of me, looked directly at my angry gaze, and said defiantly, "Who are you?