In the dark dungeon, the air was thick with a nauseating stench. Xuanyuan Ming had long since grown accustomed to this environment; a breeze wafted through the window, bringing with it a trace of cold.
The iron hooks piercing his shoulder blades were already covered in rust, and blood trickled steadily from his chest. Poisonous insects, drawn by the scent, burrowed into his skin through his wounds, and every time they gorged themselves, it felt like a slow death by a thousand cuts.
The man who had once been high above all others was now tortured into a state of lifelessness, like a fallen god, plunged into an abyss from which there was no return.
Chapter 204