Translator: Aran

  Zhao Ruyun stared at Ye Qingyu in fear.

  Both his hands were nearly crippled. The skin on it had broken apart and the flesh was lacerated. His veins and white bones were exposed. He had already lost all sensation in them, as if his hands did not belong to himself any longer.

  The sword was still stabbed into the stone beam, not stopping in its vibration.

  Ye Qingyu had only lightly flicked it with his finger. To think that the force of that movemen..