"Xiao Chen, lick it clean for me! If you can't lick it clean, molten iron will be poured into your mouth today!" Zhao Tiezhu stepped into the mud, and the piece of iron was splashed with black water half a man's height and hit the ground in front of Xiao Chen. The iron billet rolled three times and was covered with charcoal residue, mud and someone's urine stains. Xiao Chen did not raise his head. He heard the laughter of several slaves around him - the kind of laughter that didn't dare to be loud and was held in the throat. The sound of the iron cane digging into the mud was muffled. Xiao Chen supported his crutches, limped to the iron billet, and slowly squatted down.
Unable to bend the knee of his left leg, he almost fell to his knees in the mud.
