"Not talking? It's alright. I'll just use you for practice." Feng Jiu tugged at the corner of her mouth, a smile playing on her face, though her eyes remained icy cold.
She pulled the dagger from Cheng Wanli's thigh, drawing a spurt of blood with it. Her hand rose, and the dagger fell again—this time, striking the exact same spot, the same wound.
"Arghhhh!"
The same wound was stabbed again. This time, the blade wasn't withdrawn but slowly twisted inside, practically carving out a bloody hole. The excruciating pain made him feel like he was dying and coming back to life over and over.
He nearly passed out several times, only to be woken by the agony each time. Now, he couldn't even scream. His lips trembled, unable to form a single word.
Feng Jiu pulled the dagger free, wiping it on Cheng Wanli's clothes. Glancing at the bloodstains on the floor, she turned to Lady Song beside her and said, "I've dirtied this room. Have it cleaned properly later."
