The cold stone platform and the rough hemp rope cut deeply into the flesh, and every struggle brought deeper pain. The nauseatingly rich smell of blood filled the small stone room, mixed with the unsettling burnt smell left by the burning of some ancient spices. Lin Jin's consciousness was floating in the dizziness of severe pain and blood loss. His vision was filled with scarlet red, and he could only vaguely see the ferocious ghost reliefs on the stone wall above his head. They seemed to be grinning, laughing at his weakness.
"Hold him! The spiritual bones are about to leave the body, there can be no mistakes!" An old and majestic voice sounded, with unmistakable urgency. It was the elder Chuan Gong, the old man who once touched his head and praised him as "his bones are so pure that he will become a great person."
Several pairs of stronger hands firmly suppressed his limbs that were spasming in pain. The cold metal tools pressed against his back, cutting and peeling off along a certain established trajectory. That is not ordinary iron, it is a "spiritual erosion blade" specially refined to extract spiritual roots and peel off spiritual bones. Every time it goes deep, it is accompanied by a sharp attack on the soul.
