A riding crop whipped hard on his back, causing burning pain. Luo Jing gritted her teeth, groped with her hands on the ground, and picked up the dirt-covered riding whip.
He wiped it again and again with his sleeve, raised it above his head, and said in a hoarse voice: "Third Young Master, your whip." "Trash!" Zhao Dezhu stepped on the riding whip and crushed it with the sole of his boot. Luo Jing's hand was stepped on the ground, and there was black mud between his nails. The pain made him tremble all over. But he didn't shrink his hand. He knew that if he did, he would only get beaten harder. There was laughter all around. "Did you see that? This is the son of a rebel!" Zhao Dezhu opened his folding fan and fanned twice, "Does a dog-like thing deserve to be in the Jinyi Guard? Also worthy of wearing a flying fish suit?" The laughter became even louder. Liu Fugui stepped forward and smiled flatteringly: "Third Young Master is right! This bitch should be feeding the horses in the stable. It would be great if he can have food to eat!" Zhao Dezhu retracted his foot and kicked Luo Jing's shoulder: "Get down."
