Deep within the dungeon of the Military Intelligence Department, the air was so stagnant it felt as though blood could be wrung from it.
A thick stench of blood, rust, and the sickening odor of scorched flesh stubbornly hung in the air, making every breath feel like swallowing barbed, icy shards. Torches cast dancing, distorted shadows against the stone walls like countless struggling evil spirits.
Batu, the captured Golden Wolf Tribe chieftain, was bound tightly in the shape of an "X" by iron chains as thick as a child's arm against a cold stone rack. His tattered fur coat, long since soaked in blood and sweat, clung tightly to his knotted muscles. His head hung low, and his heavy breathing came with the whistling sound of a broken bellows. Every inhalation tugged at the terrifying, roughly stitched knife wound across his chest that went down almost to the bone—a parting gift Lin Feng had left him in Wild Wolf Valley.
Chapter 170