The dark green Medicine Liquid swiftly submerged Fu Yunhe's shoulders.
Scalding, was the first sensation.
For a moment, Fu Yunhe thought he was a shrimp about to be cooked; he felt certain that he must have turned bright red.
Pain, followed closely on its heels.
Before he could adjust to the temperature, it was as if millions of ants, each with legs as sharp as little knives, were frantically dancing on his skin.
With each leap, the blade edges sliced through the skin and Medicine Liquid burrowed into the fresh fissures, the pain chilling to the bone.
This agony did not subside as time passed but grew increasingly severe.
The dancing ants were no longer content to merely skim the surface of the skin. They found ways to burrow into his flesh, each wielding a drill, boring into his bones.
By now, Fu Yunhe was dripping with large beads of sweat from his head, and even his dry hair had become utterly soaked.
Yet he clenched his teeth without making a sound.
