West Mountain Law Zone, underground cave.
Pale blue fluorescence rippled out from the pool, casting hazy shadows across the cave walls.
Mo Fifteen entered from the cave mouth, carrying a wooden bucket half-full of water, with several leaves floating on the surface.
He set the bucket down, crouched, scooped up some water to wash his face, then flicked the droplets from his hands and sighed. "That guy's still yelling."
"Let him yell. It's not like he can run." Mo Yi sheathed his dagger, rose to his feet, and headed deeper into the cave.
Deep inside the cave, beside a protruding rock, a man was curled up.
He looked about twenty-five or twenty-six, dressed in work clothes so filthy their original color could no longer be seen. Mud covered his body, and his messy hair was plastered over his face.
His legs were bent at unnatural angles, his knees swollen like steamed buns. They were clearly broken.
His hands were bound behind his back with coarse hemp rope, the knots pulled tight enough to bite into his flesh. The skin on his wrists had been rubbed raw, oozing dark red blood.
He leaned against the rock wall, his face deathly pale and his lips dry and peeling. His eyes drooped half-open, and muffled groans occasionally slipped from his mouth.
Hearing footsteps, he forced his eyes open. When he saw Mo Yi approaching, his body instinctively recoiled. His back slammed into the rock wall, making him bare his teeth in pain.
"D-Don't come over..." His voice was hoarse, like sandpaper scraping together.
Mo Yi crouched down and tilted his head at him. "You've been yelling all afternoon. Aren't you tired?"
Zhang Ziqiang bit his lip and said nothing.
His gaze passed over Mo Yi and landed on the dozens of clones deeper