I was startled by the sudden sound, and immediately afterward, an even more horrifying scene unfolded. The man suddenly raised his left arm and pointed into the distance. Only then did I clearly see that he wasn't standing with his hands behind his back at all; rather, both his forearms and hands were gone, leaving only two stump-like amputations dangling at his sides, the ends ragged as if violently torn away.

A bone-chilling cold instantly swept over me. It was then I realized the man before me was not human at all. I watched him approach me, clearly seeing his completely distorted face, the pallor of his skin as if coated in plaster. As he neared, I could even see something white oozing from his ears, staining his hair, and what appeared to be a deep wound on his neck continuously spilling fresh blood, dyeing his shirt an intense crimson. It was then I understood that his shirt must have originally been white.

I wanted to pull my head back into the safety of the car, but staring at him, my body refused to move. He reached my window, expressionlessly tilting his head up. On his already somewhat swollen face, his eyes rolled violently upward until almost only the whites were visible. He suddenly split his mouth open, revealing bone-white teeth, looking as if he were laughing maniacally at me, and a sickeningly potent smell of blood washed over me.

I couldn't help but scream in terror.

Just at that moment, a tremendous force yanked me back hard into the coach bus. A bald, hulking man sitting beside me glared at me, his face contorted in anger, shouting, "What are you going crazy about? Why are you screeching like a wild cat?"

My face was ashen, my lips trembling uncontrollably from fear, leaving me speechless. The impact of that sight was too overwhelming; I hadn't fully recovered my senses yet.

The bald man frowned and peered out the window, seeing nothing. He then sized me up again, shook his head, and muttered under his breath, "Got a screw loose."

I shrank back into my seat, keeping my head down, unwilling to look out the window again. But humans are strange; despite the intense fear, knowing something was outside made me irresistibly want to check the situation one more time.

I secretly glanced out. In the faint, yellowish mist illuminated by the headlights, the man's figure had vanished.

Once I confirmed that thing was gone, I could finally slowly collect myself. Only then did I manage to sit up straight. I intended to turn and thank the bald man beside me, but I saw he had already leaned back against his seat, eyes closed, resting.

It was then that the driver finally returned from up front. As soon as he boarded the bus, we heard him grumbling about the chaos ahead—three cars piled up, blood and gore everywhere...

For the time following, I kept hearing the driver and some interested passengers discussing the accident up ahead, but my attention refused to settle on them. Although I couldn't see the terrifying man outside the window, I constantly felt as if something was lingering nearby. The temperature inside the bus dropped subtly, and the chill caused goosebumps to prickle all over my skin.

I truly couldn't fathom why I could see that thing while no one else seemed to. Was it connected to my previous experiences? These questions couldn't be answered by mere speculation, so I tried my best not to dwell on them, yet I couldn't stop myself from observing my surroundings with an unusual wariness.

Having focused only on the outside until now, when I turned my attention back to the interior of the coach, I nearly let out a cry of alarm. At the far end of the aisle, near the rear of the bus, a woman was standing there, though when she had appeared, I couldn't say.

But she was absolutely no longer a woman. Not only was her face a bloody mess, but almost every part of her body seemed intact. Pink muscle curled outward from the crisscrossing gashes where blood had drained away. Her hands were clasped over her lower abdomen, and she was actually holding a section of intestines in her palms.

Looking at her horrifying and disgusting appearance, I strained every fiber of my being to turn my head away from her, raising a hand to cover my mouth to prevent myself from screaming out loud.

When my gaze inadvertently swept back toward the front, my eyes widened instantly. In the mist, several shadowy figures could be vaguely discerned moving from the distance toward the bus.

Simultaneously, I suddenly noticed a flicker of movement beside me. Stealing a glance, I saw the woman who had been at the back of the bus was now moving forward, seemingly sparing me a quick look.

Horrified, I quickly lowered my head, not daring to look again. Only when she passed by my seat did I cautiously shift my eyes to see her pause next to a middle-aged man who was fighting off a nap. She leaned over and sat down heavily onto his lap, pressing her featureless face close to his, settling onto his shoulder.

The middle-aged man instantly opened his eyes, yet he completely ignored the woman sitting on his lap. He simply sat up slowly, his gaze fixed blankly ahead, as if stunned into idiocy.

I swallowed with extreme difficulty, momentarily unable to grasp what was happening.

But I soon realized. The shadowy figures approaching outside the bus vanished in the blink of an eye when they reached the vehicle's front. Immediately, I noticed the temperature inside the cabin dropping bit by bit, and more and more blood-soaked figures covered in wounds were appearing within the compartment.

I didn't have the courage to count how many such "people" materialized inside the bus. My only thought was to escape this coach as quickly as possible.

Unlike now, the windows of the bus back then weren't sealed. I dared not leave through the door, so I gritted my teeth, forced myself, and scrambled straight out through the window. As I hit the ground, I couldn't help but look back up at the interior.

A man with no lips left on his face was leaning over the bald man next to where I had been sitting. Standing right next to him was the man with only stump arms, staring intently at me. I could feel the palpable resentment emanating from him.

Feeling a surge of regret for not warning the bald man, I turned and ran desperately toward the rear, daring not to look back even once.

I was certain anyone who saw me would think I had gone mad—not only jumping from the vehicle but also sprinting backward as if pursued by some savage beast.

I don't know how long I ran, until my legs finally gave out and I couldn't move another step, my chest aching as if about to explode. Only then did I stop, leaning against the roadside, gasping for breath.

It was then I remembered my luggage was still on the bus. Fortunately, I had my money on me.

In the distance, I could still see the long queue of traffic caused by the blockage. The mist seemed to have thinned almost completely. I watched as the vehicles began to move slowly forward, indicating that whatever had happened ahead was mostly resolved.

But I had no desire to approach that line of traffic again. I could vaguely see the bus I had been riding had also started up and was moving slowly ahead.

For a moment, I had no idea what to do.