Pain.
Heartbreaking pain exploded from his lower abdomen, and Zhang Yanwu opened his eyes suddenly.
There was a dim yellow halo of oil lamp in front of him, which made him dizzy. The air was filled with the strong smell of blood and low-quality soju. He found that he was tied to a tilted wooden board and could not move his hands or feet.
"Are you awake?" A hoarse voice sounded next to him.
Zhang Yanwu turned his head with difficulty and saw an old man in ancient clothes with a pale face and no beard, slowly wiping a slender knife with a white cloth. The blade of the sword glowed coldly under the oil lamp.
"Who... Are you?" Zhang Yanwu's voice was hoarse.
The old man didn't answer, but just winked to the side. Two strong men stepped forward, one held his shoulders, and the other began to unbuckle his belt.
The cold touch made Zhang Yanwu tremble all over.
Clean room!
These three words struck into my mind like thunder. He looked down - the dark red stains on the wooden board, the strange herbs soaked in the barrel in the corner, and the specially designed knife...
"No—!" He roared and struggled, but the hemp rope cut deeply into his flesh.
"Save your strength." The old man said calmly, "This is your fate if you enter this place."
Despair poured over my body like ice water. Zhang Yanwu's teeth chattered as he watched the knife getting closer and closer.
Just then——
