The sound of the whip cracking on flesh was enough to make one's blood run cold.
Ya Shitian's hands and feet were bound by iron chains.
He stood there, motionless, no matter how brutally the whip lashed at him, it seemed he couldn't feel the pain, not even a furrow of his brow.
Again and again.
The whip left bloodstains across his body.
His white shirt was long stained with blood.
After an unknown amount of time, the person whipping was exhausted, yet he still stood tall, his eyes sharp as knives.
Meeting his cold, dark eyes, the person whipping him felt a pang of guilt.
After all, he was once someone noteworthy, always a figure looked up to by small fry like them.
"What are you looking at? Keep staring and I'll continue!" the whipper said, bravado masking his fear.
Ya Shitian slightly pulled the corner of his mouth, revealing a contemptuous smile.
The man, enraged, started whipping again...
After a long while, the whipping finally stopped again.
