Ah Sang glanced in the direction he left, then turned and ran toward another small workshop nearby.
...
...
Inside the old workshop, it was exceedingly quiet, with only the man's heavy, exhausted breathing.
Jiao Yang's clothes were already soaked with sweat. After exerting great effort, he finally freed one hand from the ropes.
Of course, for this, he paid a considerable price; the skin on his wrist and the back of his hand was scraped off, bloodied and raw.
Ignoring the pain in his hand, he took a breath, and immediately stretched over to tug at the leather strap on his other wrist.
At this moment, his fingers were almost numb from the pain, and he lacked any strength, unable to tug at all.
Reluctantly, he had to stop and rest for a moment, feeling his body regain some strength. He laboriously propped himself up and leaned in, using his teeth and fingers together to forcefully tug at the leather strap.
Bit by bit, again and again…
