The dungeon converted from the basement of a private house in the royal capital was rather dark and damp.
Several thieves from the Crow Bandit Group looked at Yang Yong, covered in bloody welts, and felt rather put out. "There was supposed to be a banquet today. We could've slipped in for some good food and drink, maybe even hooked up with a noble girl. Instead, we're stuck here watching this guy-"
Thinking of how unfair it was, one of them picked up the whip beside him and lashed Yang Yong viciously again.
The whip, soaked in cursed water, struck Yang Yong as though it could burn his soul directly.
Even on the verge of death, he still let out a low, agonized cry from his throat.
"Don't kill him."
"Relax. I was going to give him some medicine to keep him alive anyway. A few more lashes won't hurt."
The thief venting his anger spat, then took out a bottle of red potion and poured it straight over Yang Yong's head.
White smoke rose as the potion touched his wounds, drawing another muffled groan from him.
But the potion really did seem to restore some of his strength. In a tearful voice, he said, "I've already told you everything. If there's anything else you want to know, just ask. Why do you have to do this-"
"Ha! Because I feel like it!"
The thief seemed to have tasted the pleasure of wielding power, and grew even more excited. "You're just a powerless lowborn wretch. As long as I don't kill you, you'll have to take whatever I do to you. Nobody will care about you, and nobody-"
But just as he was venting without restraint, he suddenly felt his entire body freeze. He could no longer move even a