"You humiliated me in front of everyone. This is what you deserve!" Hai Dongqing hated Zhao Dong to the bone. Spitting up the eight-treasure porridge in public had been the ultimate humiliation!
Ling'er comforted him, "Brother Hai, don't be angry. This guy is as good as dead. There's no need to waste your anger on a dead man."
Ling'er's considerate manner made Hai Dongqing feel much better. He waved his hand, "You're right. Why should I bother with a dead man?"
At that moment, Zhao Dong's howls became even more intense. The excruciating pain made him faint several times, yet he woke up again and again. This repeated torture was truly unbearable.
The onlookers watched Zhao Dong with sneers on their faces, their expressions joyous, as if they were watching an entertainment show and Zhao Dong was the clown.
The disciples who had been suppressed by Zhao Dong, along with their allies, clapped and cheered.
