The air in the secret chamber seemed completely frozen by the cold runes flowing across the chains, stagnant enough to suffocate.
Only Tang Wutong's slightly heavy breathing, filled with resentment and weakness, could be heard clearly in the silence.
The vast divine power within her had been bound layer upon layer by those special chains. Circulating it felt like sinking into a quagmire, obscure and difficult.
The pallor on Tang Wutong's face stemmed not only from anger and humiliation, but also from the fundamental weakness brought on by the extreme suppression of her divine power.
Yet even so, her back remained perfectly straight, like sturdy bamboo in the wind. Beneath the hatred in her eyes, a trace of pride belonging to the Daughter of a God King still flickered stubbornly—pride that refused to bow her head.
"You don't have to look at me like that."
Lu Jun was the first to break the oppressive silence. His voice was calm and even, carrying neither a victor's smugness nor deliberate provocation.
"I'm not here to humiliate you."
The corner of Tang Wutong's lips lifted in an almost imperceptible curve, filled with mockery and disdain, as though she had heard the most absurd joke in the world.
She finally spoke. Her voice was slightly hoarse from thirst and agitation, yet still as sharp and piercing as an icicle.
"Not here to humiliate me?"
After saying that, she gave a derisive laugh.
"Then what are you here for? To admire the trophy you captured with your own hands?"
"Or do you fantasize about making me grovel like a tail-wagging dog at the feet of you ants, begging to join your ridiculous faction?"
She placed particular emphasis on the word "ants," as though doing so could reclaim a little of the dignity she had lost