The second lash fell, followed immediately by the third.
The darkness clinging to the whip seeped into his body each time it touched his skin, as though something were burrowing into his bones and blood.
He Caitou clenched his teeth tightly, every muscle in his body drawn taut, his eyes bloodshot as they glared through the darkness.
After whipping him over a dozen times, the elder shook out his wrist. Seeing how He Caitou seemed more spirited with every lash, he could not help smacking his lips.
"This brat is like cotton—the more I whip him, the more he bounces back!"
He lowered his head to look at the mist on the whip, which was gradually darkening, then at the increasingly dense aura of darkness around He Caitou. A satisfied curve rose at the corner of his lips.
With every lash, that dark aura grew more intense, as though something were being layered onto him, one layer after another.
Mingdu, an underground facility of the Xishui Alliance.
It was hidden beneath an abandoned theater. The entrance lay behind the stage curtain, and a narrow stone staircase led downward, deeper and colder with every step.
Yet there was another world below. The vaulted ceiling was draped in dark-red curtains, and rows of candleholders were embedded along the surrounding walls.
The flames swayed in the damp air, staining the entire space with an ambiguous warmth.
A broad chair covered in black fur stood in the center, with subordinates wrapped in black robes lined up on either side.
Seated upon the chair was a beautiful mature woman in a Gothic blue-and-black gown. Her skin was so pale it was almost translucent, gleaming with a cold porcelain sheen beneath the dark-red light.
Her attire was exceedingly seductive, its plunging neckline exposing a generous