He exerted a little force with his right foot and pushed Daemon's head down another half inch, so that the sand did not cover his auricles.
Then he bent down, leaned closer, and said in an almost whispering voice, "I will chop off all your limbs."
Daemon's body stiffened suddenly.
It's not a shock, but an uncontrollable stress response that the body makes when the brain receives a completely unexpected message that is beyond the expected range.
He has heard about the cruelty of Redd, heard about the things he did in the East Free Cities, and heard about how he treated his enemies.
But "cutting off five limbs" - the term itself, this specific cruelty with a certain black sense of humor, was beyond his imagination.
He even needed to do a quick calculation in his mind - the limbs were hands and feet, five limbs... what was the fifth limb?
Then he understood. His body stiffened again, this time more obvious and lasting longer than before.
"Then cut off your tongue." Redd continued, his tone still calm, as if he was reading a menu, "So that you can't speak, beg for mercy, curse, or shout."
Daemon grabbed his left hand on the sand, dug his five fingers deeply into the sand, and then let go.
His breathing became more rapid, his chest heaved violently, and every breath was accompanied by twitching and pain from the wound on his right shoulder.
There was a heated debate going on in his brain - one part was saying, "He's scaring you, he's not going to do it," and the other part was saying, "He's going to do it, and you know better than anyone that he's going to do it."
Redd straightened up, removed his right foot from Daemon's face, and stepped on the sand beside him.
Daemon's face was exposed from the sand. The left half of his face was covered with gravel and wet mud, and the right half of his face was stained with blood and sweat. The whole person looked extremely embarrassed.
He took a big breath of air, spit out the sand in his mouth, then turned his head and stared at Redd with his dark gray eyes.
Redd looked down at him, with the corners of his mouth raised slightly, revealing a faint smile without any warmth.
"Then," he said, his voice as soft as if he was talking about a trivial matter, "I will find a vat and put you in it. Only your head will be exposed.
I feed you a little water and gruel every day to keep you alive, but not well enough.
Let you watch your body shrink and rot day by day, turning into a useless lump of flesh.
Let you have time to recall who you were, what you once had, and how glorious you were - and then let you toss and turn on the bed and reflect on how you ended up in this vat step by step."
He paused and tilted his head, as if appreciating the complex expression on Daemon's face, which was a mixture of fear and anger.
"I'm going to make your life worse than death."
When these four words came out of Redd's mouth, they didn't sound like a threat, but more like a promise.
Every word is like a nail driven into wood with a hammer, solid and unbiased, without any room for maneuver.
Daemon Listening to these four words, what came to mind was not the image of himself being put into a tank - that image was so ridiculous that his brain refused to generate it.
He was thinking of those nobles who were conquered by Redd in the Eastern Free Cities, those who were once arrogant, but now even their names have been forgotten.
Redd didn't kill most of them, but he did something more terrible than killing.
He let them live, let them watch with their own eyes everything they once owned was taken away, destroyed, and trampled into the soil, and he let them die while they were still alive.
Daemon's lips trembled, wanting to say something - maybe a tough reply, maybe a begging for mercy, maybe just "you crazy person".
But the moment he opened his mouth, sand choked his throat. He coughed violently, his face turned red from the cough, and the wound on his right shoulder was constantly being affected by the cough. Blood poured out from around the spear shaft, dyeing more sand dark red.
Redd didn't look at him again. He turned around and glanced at the beach in the distance.
King Ghidorah is still entangled with Nu Tao and Bloodworm, but the battle has clearly come to an end - Nu Tao's movements are getting slower and slower, and the wound on his neck is losing blood; Bloodworm's wings are completely unable to flap, and he can only crawl on the ground, spitting out a dragon's breath from time to time, but those flames can't even leave a trace on King Ghidorah's scales.
The three heads of King Ghidorah have a clear division of labor. One suppresses the raging waves, one suppresses Bloodworm, and the other heads are alert to the surrounding environment and occasionally emit a golden lightning bolt to push back enemies trying to get closer.
Redd's eyes moved away from the battlefield and landed on the beach farther away.
Tormund was still lying there, covered in mud, the fingers of his left hand were twisted and bloody.
He seemed to have lost consciousness, his body undulating slightly on the beach, moving slowly with the wash of the waves.
Redd withdrew his gaze and glanced down at Daemon who was nailed to the beach at his feet.
Daemon's coughing has stopped, but his complexion is very poor, his lips are purple, and the skin around his right shoulder has turned an abnormal blue-gray color - that is a sign that Ice Spear's cold air is spreading.
If he didn't pull out the spear as soon as possible, his entire right arm or even half of his body would be frozen.
Redd has no intention of helping him pull it out.
"Dawg las!" He shouted, his voice was not loud, but it carried far in the early morning sea breeze.
In the distance, there was a burst of chaotic footsteps coming from the direction of the ruins.
Dawg The charred figure of Lass emerged from behind a pile of collapsed stone pillars. Behind him were several soldiers who were also covered in injuries, all of whom were the remaining survivors of Redd's army.
Dawg The left half of Russ's body was still oozing blood, his hair and eyebrows were burned completely, and his entire face was smoked like a lump of charcoal, but his eyes were bright, as bright as two lanterns.
He was supported by two soldiers and limped towards Redd. Every step he took was accompanied by twitching of the corners of his mouth and suppressed moans, but his steps did not stop.
"Your Highness--" His voice was so hoarse that it was almost inaudible, but the title was still clear, with an almost instinctive respect that remained unchanged after experiencing life and death.
Redd pointed at Daemon who was nailed to the beach at his feet. "Keep an eye on this person. Don't let him die, and don't let him run away. After I finish dealing with the dragon, I will come back and take care of him slowly."
Dawg Lars's pupils shrank suddenly when he saw the tragic situation of Daemon.
Being nailed to the beach by Ice Spear, half of his body was turned blue from the cold, half of his face was buried in the sand, and he was covered in blood - this picture is enough to shock any normal person.