There were two large rooms in the blacksmith shop's rear courtyard. The one on the right was the blacksmith's living quarters, while the one to the right was a warehouse for storing ironware.
The gaunt middle-aged man first led Li Xianzong and the others to the warehouse piled high with ironware. When he pushed open the long-sealed door, a stale, rusty smell rushed at them.
Li Xianzong stepped over the threshold and entered the warehouse, his steady gaze sweeping across the room.
The warehouse contained all manner of instruments of torture: razors, steel needles, finger presses, branding irons, standing cangues, tiger benches, and more.
Li Xianzong narrowed his eyes. These were nothing like the "torture devices" used by that perverted woman Yi Chuanmei. The items in this warehouse were meant to torment people—real instruments of torture.
Most were covered in dust and mottled with rust, while others were exceptionally new, as though they had only recently been made.
"Why would a blacksmith have so many instruments of torture in his warehouse?"
The speaker was a burly young man with ordinary features and a defiant air. One look was enough to tell that he was trouble—the sort of young man who loved fighting and violence.
But that sort of temperament was utterly unremarkable among Evil Professions. This young man's only distinguishing feature was his missing left ear, which seemed to have been sliced off by a sharp blade.
The gaunt middle-aged man said, "Not only that. Look carefully—some of these instruments are old, while others are new. Smith Wang is still constantly forging more instruments of torture."
As he spoke, the gaunt middle-aged man picked up two razors. One was heavily rusted, while the other had a gleaming, razor-sharp edge.
"He's repeatedly forging instruments of torture for no reason," Li Xianzong