The dampness of the Fengqiu City dungeon seeped into the marrow of one's bones. Condensation dripped from the stone walls, creating a heart-stopping sound in the silence—an echo that lingered endlessly within the cramped stone chamber.
Zhao Kuo hung from the torture rack by iron chains. His silver armor had been stripped away, and the remnants of his white undergarment were tattered and soaked through, revealing the mangled, bloody flesh beneath.
He was in a wretched state. His fingernails had been torn out, his feet were submerged in a brine solution, and every breath was accompanied by waves of agonizing pain. Yet, amidst this torment, his mind had become strangely clear.
Chapter 392