In a dim corner of the tent,
Gao Yimin was curled up, her hands clasped tightly around her knees, her face etched with worry and fear.
On the bed, Dai Ju's hands frantically tore at the Yellow Paper, but it seemed to have a life of its own, clinging tightly to her head.
Beneath the Yellow Paper, her head was being twisted by an unseen force into a grotesque, terrifying shape.
Bloody fluid seeped from the cracks in the paper, dripping slowly, as if Dai Ju's life was being devoured bit by bit.
Gao Yimin knew that even a King-level Martial Artist would find it difficult to withstand such oppressive power.
Her heart was a maelstrom of emotions. She was worried for Dai Ju's safety, but also terrified that the commotion in the tent would attract attention.
She bit her lip, struggling to control her breathing, afraid of making even the slightest sound.
