\nWhat Feng Yin hated most in the world was this woman.
“Girl.” The old man’s face looked ugly. He directly threw the lamp in his hand at Feng Yin.
Martial Uncle Ge was also working on the side, dispersing the dark and inky Yin and baleful energy in the house.
“You have the audacity to meddle in my affairs. There are countless Daoist priests who have died under my hand.” Feng Yin’s face was covered in blood, and drops of it flowed down his white, jade-like cheeks.
“I’m going to pull out your soul and put it in a puppet for Ruoxi to play with.” Vicious words came out of Feng Yin’s mouth.
Ning Shu listened to Feng Yin’s words. It was really cruel. She could imagine her life as a puppet: it was endless pain, pierced with needles, poked with knives, ripped-off arms and legs, put in the water and drowned.
These pains were incredibly real. Her soul would go through the suffering, but she wouldn’t truly die.