Deep within the Imperial Prison, amidst the flickering, dim light of the candles, Shen Heting had already changed into a dark-patterned black silk robe. The taotie patterns embroidered in silver thread along the hem shimmered faintly in the gloom.
He reclined on the main seat, his slender fingers slowly and methodically stroking his lips. His deep, phoenix-like eyes looked down upon the man bound to the rack, cold and terrifying, like a dark pool or freezing frost.
The prisoner on the rack below was already covered in lacerations, his throat too hoarse to utter a single coherent sentence.
Chapter 101