The Worst Thing Would Be if the Sky-Spire Aliens Were Cultured

"Ahhh!"

Zhao Chengfu let out a miserable scream.

Mu Yang frowned. "I haven't even started yet! What the hell are you screaming for?!"

Turning his head slightly, he saw Tang Luo pick up a box of toothpicks and pour them out, slowly arranging them one by one on the table.

Every time he laid down a toothpick, Zhao Chengfu's body trembled.

Just thinking about toothpicks being shoved beneath his fingernails before being violently slammed into a wall made him feel pain—piercing, gut-wrenching pain.

That phantom pain, that torment hovering just short of becoming real, was what wore people down the most.

"Don't look at me. This humble monk has left the secular world and isn't good at this sort of thing. You'll have to do it yourself." Tang Luo glanced at Mu Yang as he arranged the toothpicks.

Mu Yang was speechless. A monk, my ass.

You were clearly the one who came up with the idea, and now you were claiming to be a monk?

Were all monks like you?

"I'll talk! I'll talk!"

Zhao Chengfu shouted. He could not hold out any longer.

If it had been Lin Hu, he definitely would not have surrendered so easily. He was a battle-hardened soldier who had endured every kind of hardship.

A few toothpicks were nothing.

But Zhao Chengfu was not a soldier. He had never suffered much in his early years, at least not physical pain. Later, after rising to a high position, he had lived a pampered life.

Mu Yang picked up a toothpick and gave it a little wave. Zhao Chengfu's psychological defenses completely collapsed.

A few minutes later, Mu Yang wore a cold expression as he grabbed Zhao Chengfu by the head and twisted it to the side.

He turned it three hundred and sixty degrees,