Sang Jiao's expression changed, and he immediately turned around, picked up the black-clothed leader whose arm had been chopped off, and dragged him towards the torture chamber. Unexpectedly, he encountered the man's sarcastic laughter.
"Delusional! Chunyu Yan, give up your delusions... Struck by the Crane Feather Shock, there's no cure... Just enjoy the bliss of your intestines rupturing and your belly rotting away."
"Hahahaha."
"Hahahahahaha."
The laughter echoed in the flower hall.
Coldly masking the pervasive stench of blood.
It was so intense that several night lamps also began swinging wildly.
The guards of Yunchuan all changed their complexions.
Feng Yun looked towards Chunyu Yan.
His eyes were deep and dark, and whatever expression lay beneath the iron mask was unknowable.
"Feng Twelve."
Chunyu Yan suddenly called Feng Yun's name, placing a hand on her shoulder.
"Trouble you... help me... inside."
