"Wine! Bring me more wine!" Yan Feiheng bellowed in his rough, hoarse voice.
"G-General, all the wine we plundered is gone. The jar you just drank was the last one," the soldier said, bowing.
"Useless!"
Smack! A resounding slap struck his face. The broad, massive palm spasmed the instant it hit his cheek, and the tremendous force sent his body sideways, knocking him to the ground.
"Go find me some, damn it! I haven't had enough yet! How can there be no wine?!" His voice grew even hoarser, like a demon whispering.
"Yes, yes, sir." The soldier hastily agreed and hurried out of the tent.
He stood eight chi tall and cut an imposing figure, with a full beard like a Viking's, thick limbs, broad shoulders, and a powerful waist. His eyes held the cold, murderous menace that could only accumulate over many years. Like the Sky-Piercer Halberd standing beside him, his presence was oppressive and intimidating.
But his somewhat murky eyes, and the undisguised lust within them, ruined it all.
Deprived of fine wine, he seemed to have lost his soul. Yan Feiheng rose unsteadily from where he had been reclining on his side and turned his attention back to the unconscious woman bound before him.
The Holy Temple Woman's once glossy black hair was now tangled and disheveled. Her voluptuous body was naked, her limbs chained to a wooden frame in the shape of a cross, leaving her unable to move.
Whip marks covered her shoulders, breasts, and legs. Her once snow-white back throbbed with pain. She could feel blood flowing from her neck, down her waist to her buttocks, and finally to her ankles.
He bent down, picked up the dipper from the bucket, and flung a sheet of water into her face. More strands of hair