Jiang Yanxu's vision blurred. His body strained against the seatbelt, muscles aching, blood trickling down his temple. His ears rang, but outside that haze, he could still make out the flickering tunnel lights casting shadows on the mess they had become.
He reached up, fingertips grazing the side of his throbbing head. When he pulled his hand back, it came away stained crimson.
Shouts echoed from outside. Tires skidded as cars screeched to a halt. People rushed toward the scene, voices rising in alarm. Someone crouched beside the wreck, peering in through the broken window.
"Are you alright?" a man called, leaning close, eyes wide with concern.
Jiang Yanxu waved him off weakly, jaw clenched tight, but his focus shifted immediately. Through the shattered windshield, he caught sight of Song Yuhang's limp form lying a few feet away, sprawled across the asphalt, the driver's bloodied figure crumpled not far from him.
A sharp spike of dread shot through Jiang Yanxu's chest.
