Translator: Aran

  At that instant, acute and terrible pain made Ye Qingyu feel as if his soul was quaking.

  If was as if there were invisible cutting blades that were currently tearing his soul into pieces bit by bit.

  “Don’t let your thinking run wild… little mud person, condense your mind and accept my will!”


  The voice suddenly became passionate, like the morning bell or evening drum that sounded within Ye Qingyu’s mind.

  At this moment, Ye Qingyu could no..