"It seems they've exhausted all their tricks," Long Sen mocked, "even resorting to cruel torture like branding. Now they're playing with fire; doesn't that seem a bit low-level?"
A burning scar lay across Long Sen's chest, left by a red-hot iron block they pressed against him. The pain of that moment was unforgettable for him.
"No, it seems something's wrong," the owner of Yujian Villa's expression changed, "Damn, it's the Prison Fire!"
As the master of Yujian Villa, he naturally knew the past and present, his information network was exceptionally well-informed, hardly anything could escape his eyes. He had heard long ago that below this Prison of Sin lay a pit of dead bodies, where a spark absorbed the martial artists' resentment and the power of death to grow slowly.
This flame at first wasn't much stronger than ordinary fire. The king of the Divine Nation of Yan Yang bound it with his life, using his life and prison energy to nurture it.
