"He has no weapon! Don't be afraid!"
An officer shouted, and two men immediately drew out a chain.
Holding its ends, they slowly approached Fan Wujiao.
Fan Wujiao weakly opened his eyes and looked at the two men. If that chain catches me, I'll be a lamb to the slaughter.
The officers on either side snapped their arms, swinging the iron chain horizontally at Fan Wujiao.
Fan Wujiao gritted his teeth, reached out, and caught the chain with all his strength. Then he gave it a violent yank. Both officers lost their grip, and the chain fell into his hands.
"Fan Wujiao! Stop clinging to your folly! Give up resisting, and we'll grant you a quick death!"
Fan Wujiao sneered and slowly straightened his back. He seemed to have grown used to that weakness. Perhaps he could stake his life on one more fight.
"Give up resisting? Why should I?"
The officers were intimidated by his presence. What was wrong with this man?
How could he still be standing after drinking poisoned wine?
"Fan Wujiao, you're unarmed now. How can you fight so many of us? With that single iron chain in your hand?"
"An iron chain? Hah!"
Holding one end, Fan Wujiao whipped the chain outward. It flew straight toward a sickle in the nearby rice field and hooked it. He jerked his hand back, drawing the chain and its attached sickle toward him.
"In your hands, this is an ordinary iron chain. In mine, it becomes a Soul-Gathering Rope that can take lives!"
Du Yu silently nodded. Eighth Master really is a martial arts prodigy. He knows that even a weakened man can unleash considerable power by swinging a chain. Right now, that chain is his only straw to clutch at.
But why did the name "Soul-Gathering Rope"