chapter hundred-five: i regret it

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yan yi's eyes were full of blood, staring at the person on the torture rack, and said softly: "tell yuan, how you treated him, and spare your wife and daughter from death." "

where did the jailer think that violating a prisoner of the rank would bring him ruin, let alone succeed at all. he begged for forgiveness dying.

"i don't dare to do it anymore... the emperor spares his life..."

"around the life..."

yan yi took the fire tongs handed by the prison officer, pressed the red triangular head on the jailer's chest, and the fire tongs burned the prisoner's clothes and stuck to the flesh, making a 'nourishing' sound, in exchange for the jailer's heart-rending screams.

the air smelled of burnt meat.

"say."

"what did you do to him?"

the swallow kites were surprisingly calm.

the tongs burned three or four times, and the jailer's chest was almost burned, and he passed out several times and was awakened by cold water. xu was aware that he was doomed, and he was finally willing to say it.

"the lowly man wanted to be happy with him... when he did not comply, he pulled out his fingernails and kicked him in the abdomen..."

the mouth of the heart seemed to be pinched by an invisible giant palm, slowly tightening, pinching until it was deformed, the more the corner of the yan iris listened, the redder the corner of the eye became, and the blood dripped out from under the sleeve robe and landed on the dusty ground.

"...... the emperor spared his life. "

"the emperor... spare your life..." the half-dead jailer was still begging for forgiveness.

the prison officer on his side saw the blood dripping from under yan yi's sleeve robe and hurriedly said, "emperor, you are injured..."

yan yi did not feel pain, he did not want to stay in this place any longer, turned around, and said dumbly: "pull out his nails, chop them up, feed the dogs." "

"yes..."

passing by the cell where xuan long had been held, yan yi stopped, and he looked sideways inside, hollow, pitch black, and nothing. the straw and bedding that xuan long had slept on were all cleaned up.

man cannot be resurrected from the dead.

the same goes for demons.

even if yan yi can't accept this fact, it must accept it.

he paused for a moment before continuing to walk out along the dimly lit corridor, the cold wind digging through the pores into his bare neck, causing a shudder.

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