A blessing for the obsessive-compulsive.
Though the sight was bizarre, Fu Qian had still offered a fair assessment after the first cut.
As if it had given everything it had left to nourish something else, the shriveled flesh had become honeycombed.
Its deadwood hue contrasted sharply with the blood vessels and sinews buried beneath it, creating an almost irresistible urge to peel it away like a scab.
And the male office worker was doing just that.
One cut after another, one strip after another. Any trace of hesitation from before had vanished; all his focus was clearly on the task before him.
His hand was even trembling slightly.
Not from nerves, but from excitement.
As someone highly empathetic, Fu Qian made the judgment with ease.
Clearly, both office workers were burning with the urge to tear away the bloodied scab described earlier, gradually losing control of body and mind.
The good thing was that this loss of control didn't turn them into lunatics. Instead, it was like being in the presence of a miracle, compelled to prostrate themselves.
As for the person at the center of it all, the one receiving the rite, there was not a trace of pain on his face. If anything, his demeanor perfectly mirrored that of the two office workers.
His body held ramrod straight, he seemed almost overwhelmed by a sense of rapture, as if being cleansed of dust and touching God's Grace.
The pleasure of casting off his restraints was so intense that his lowered hands could be seen curling slightly, as though he could hardly resist tearing the skin away himself to hurry things along.
But the female office worker, standing guard, kept that urge firmly in check.
They seemed to have prepared thoroughly.
Watching the trio work together so smoothly, Fu