"Ahhhhhh!"
Viper removed his boot from Brian's face.
Brian felt the warm blood gushing from his nose, trickling down his cheeks to his upper lip.
"Cough, cough, stop, please stop, I'm already desperate, just let me go."
In front of the Silver Hand was a pile of charcoal fire, and he was burying the top half of his long sword in it, waiting for it to gradually heat up.
Brian's hands were trembling constantly, fear slowly devouring his heart.
He was a very self-aware person. He considered many people cowards, but he knew he wasn't some steel-willed warrior, and certainly couldn't face torture without flinching.
Honestly, he was surprised he hadn't cried yet, and it refreshed his own self-image. Perhaps he wasn't as weak as he thought.
Brian glanced at the high-temperature sword once again.
Then, he immediately closed his eyes, for he didn't dare to keep his gaze on it for even a second longer.
