The cave was dimly lit by flickering torches, casting eerie shadows on the jagged walls. The air was thick with the scent of damp earth and blood, making every breath a struggle.
Mr. Jiao, injured and helpless, leaned against the rough stone, his breaths shallow and ragged.
His clothes were torn and soaked with blood, each movement sending waves of pain through his body. His eyes darted around, desperate for any sign of hope, but found none.
The shadows seemed to mock his vulnerability, closing in on him.
Joon Su stepped forward, his silhouette imposing and merciless against the cave's entrance. His presence commanded attention, each step echoing ominously off the walls. His eyes, once filled with warmth and kindness, now glinted with a cold, unyielding resolve. The dagger in his hand caught the torchlight, its blade glistening menacingly.
