"Qin Qingluo..."
The gray and black chains swayed, making a clinking sound. The surroundings were dim and dark, and in such an environment, Chen Yi's vision seemed to have deteriorated.
He didn't know how many days he had been thirsty.
Not a drop of water, not a grain of food, his whole body visibly caved inward, his hands were hoisted up by iron chains, drooping powerlessly, neither able to lift nor put down. Even the strongest martial artist couldn't withstand such torment.
"Qin Qingluo..."
He hoarsely muttered this name. The short three words had lost any trace of emotion. Anger, disappointment, sadness were nowhere to be found, and he merely repeated it mechanically.
Then, the long-closed dungeon door suddenly opened. From here, it looked like a small windowpane, yet that little bit of light that leaked in still made him uncomfortably close his eyes.
Patter, patter.
A tall figure squeezed into the dungeon, walking in step by step.
"Oh, are you calling for me?"
