Wu Mayan and Fu Dong held their breath as they observed Li Yao's reaction nervously.
For many tall and muscular men in the Furious Bears Tribe, they would already be crying and begging for mercy when one fifth the standard pressure was imposed on them.
There was nothing but indifference on Li Yao's face. He blinked his eyes and looked back peacefully.
Wu Mayan looked at Fu Dong in bewilderment. He then stood on his toes so that he could check the pressure meter on Li Yao's shackles and hear the shrieking spiritual gas from the joints of the tools. He remarked confusedly, "There's nothing wrong. It is one third the standard pressure. What's going on? Uncle Sand Scorpion. Do you not feel anything?"
Li Yao shook his head.
No, that was not entirely true. He felt like ten thousand feathers were brushing his body and making him itch. They were like dragonflies stopping by the surface of a pond and had dispersed before he had enjoyed enough.
