Lu Yang was already in too much pain to speak. He had always looked down on lower gods. With the Blazing Demon God teaching him by his side, he had even scorned higher gods. Now that he had experienced the strongest strike of a lower god from the Nightmare Race, he truly wished he were dead.
But could this pain defeat him? Impossible!
In his soul state, Lu Yang had only one intact eye left. He stared at Duree. Though his entire body trembled from the agonizing pain, he still wore a cold smile and said, word by word, "Use every torture you have ever seen on me. If I cry out even once that it hurts, I would be letting down the brothers who died for me."
First, Fei Yang had willingly gone to his death in order to deceive the Dragonkin and enter Bandalsburg Prison. Then, so many Iron Blood Brotherhood warriors had fought to the death against the armies of countless races from the other world under his orders. If Lu Yang so much as cried out in pain, it would be disrespectful to those fallen brothers. If he dared to fear pain or death, he would have no face left to keep living.
"Still talking tough? Let's see how long you can keep it up." Duree laughed wildly and continued torturing Lu Yang with the soul blade.
One day.
Two days.
Three days.
When the tenth day arrived, Duree finally stopped wielding his soul blade. He sneered at Lu Yang, whose soul-state body did not have a single patch of intact skin left, and asked, "That felt good, didn't it? Did you enjoy it? Want me to keep going?"
Not one of the enemies Duree had ever dragged into the Thirty-Three Tribulations—the Tribulation of Pain—had