Not far away, half of a broken bell tower jutted out from the ruins at an angle. Its bronze body was riddled with bullet holes and claw marks. The clapper was long gone, and only the empty chamber remained, letting out a mournful wail in the wind that sounded just like the sobbing of a lost soul.
The Bloodthirsty Clones silently flanked Qin Feng, their black eyes vigilantly scanning the surroundings.
The Beheading Sword Replicas in their hands dragged carelessly along the ground, striking fine sparks from the flagstones that briefly illuminated a pile of bones in a corner.
They were human remains. Some still wore shattered armor, their finger bones locked in a death grip around rusted longswords. They had clearly fought to their last breath.
Then, a foul-smelling gust of wind blew from deep within the alleyways, kicking up a few scraps of blackened cloth and slapping them against Qin Feng's armor.
