Three cuts, four cuts, five cuts.
Eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen cuts.
One hundred and one cuts.
...thousands upon thousands of cuts.
It seemed as if countless blades were dancing around his body, the brilliant crimson light of blood forming the final Soul Suppressing Tones.
First was bleeding from every orifice, followed by thousands upon thousands of cuts.
Yet his face remained serene, the depths of his eyes conveyed bone-deep calm, yet they were so gentle—Chu Yu almost died for that look.
But now, he died for her.
