The light came on.
Will touched his burning cheek, his fingers still stained with specks of blood.
He coldly looked up at the bewildered middle-aged man before him and the whip in his hand. A more violent emotion than the man's desire for destruction began to wreak havoc!
It was a special kind of whip, made from stiff leather strips—
In some leather shops, they would tan particularly hard leather, which was used for the base or support surface of some leather goods, much harder than the softer leather.
Some leftover scraps, about less than a centimeter square, these scraps were cheap and had no practical use. Enio's father had gathered some, bundled them together, and then oiled them.
It was very handy when hitting someone. A single lash would leave several blood-beading edges, and every time he lashed Enio with it, it would make Enio jump.
He cherished this whip, for in his bleak and miserable life, this whip was the only light!
The light that could redeem him!
