They carefully dragged the captive out through the back door, stepping with extreme caution, terrified that a single unnecessary sound might reveal their location.
Liang Song led the way, each footfall testing the pulse of the earth, his soles pressing softly against the gravel to avoid making even the slightest noise. His eyes, sharp as a hawk’s, flashed with vigilance in the darkness, missing nothing. The rustle of a breeze through the weeds at the corner of a wall or the distant cry of a wild cat was enough to send a jolt through his strained nerves.
He Chenguang followed close behind, his hands clamped like iron pliers over the captive. The prisoner’s earlier arrogance had been thoroughly devoured by fear; his head hung limply like frost-withered grass, his feet dragging with a dull, grating sound that set one’s teeth on edge.
Chapter 421