Wild Dog's eyes briefly hardened, his body shivering at the memory of the unbearable itching pain and the sight of blood trails scratched over his body. Ferocious as he was, it didn't mean Wild Dog wasn't afraid of death. One could infer from his scar-laden face the excruciating torment he must have endured to survive—clearly, he treasured his life dearly.
Lying on the ground, his breath erratic, Wild Dog gazed at Ye Chenfeng with suspicion and alarm. If what Ye Chenfeng said was true, then wouldn't his life be forever in Ye Chenfeng's hands? He didn't want to die; he wanted to live. Tentatively, he asked, "What do you want me to do?"
