Wasteland Bailiff

The rough hemp rope cut into his wrist, rubbing against the scabbed old wound, causing a burning pain. Yunzhi was pushed roughly, and there were gravel and unknown bones under his feet, which made the soles of his feet hurt. The air was filled with a strong smell of blood, mixed with scorched earth and some kind of decadent sweetness, which made her stomach churn. She wanted to vomit, but her throat was blocked by the rag stuffed in her mouth, and she could only whimper. Altar. This was the end of her tow. An altar made of broken steel bars and charred bricks pointed crookedly at the leaden sky. A few broken beams of light tore from the clouds, barely illuminating the place. There were people standing around, wearing the white robes of the Holy Flame Society, with a disgusting fanaticism and indifference on their faces. Those indifferent eyes were like blades, scraping across her skin inch by inch. She wanted to look up, but found that her neck seemed to be clamped by an iron hoop, and she could only feel the coldness and despair around her. This novel and its characters are purely fictitious. Any similarity is purely coincidental and should not be imitated.