Only hallucinatory laughter was rising, growing ever clearer.
Until, amidst the tumbling and struggling, he finally saw the smiling face atop the wheelchair and the cold, indifferent black pupils gazing down, as if he understood everything in an instant.
Cun Ling's eyes widened in terror, crawling forward on hands and knees, clutching at Ji Jue's pant leg, opening his mouth to plead, but no sound came out.
He could only pray as he kowtowed, his forehead striking the floor again and again, blood streaming.
A muffled wail of despair.
From beginning to end, Ji Jue's face was expressionless.
Indifferent.
Not until he had completely given up hope, no longer possessing the strength to struggle, did he finally hear it, a crisp sound.
Ji Jue's fingers tapped on the armrest of the wheelchair.
In an instant, the Puppet's hands that had been choking his neck finally loosened a bit, cold air rushing into his lungs, bringing with it life and all the wonderful things in the world.
