Outer World.
Bang!
A wet whip struck, leaving a burning pain.
'Dare to hit me?'
Fang Xing had just awoken from ignorance and instinctively tried to mobilize the Power of Laws.
But he instantly felt half chilled.
'The Power of Laws is unresponsive. Is this a world similar to the Tamer's? My Primordial Spirit occupying this body, the Essence Blood is deteriorating, weak... too weak...'
He grimaced, looked around, and saw several raggedly dressed youths, some with sneering smiles, though most were filled with fear.
Directly ahead, a man dressed in blood-red robes, styled like those of ancient eastern men, held a whip in his hand, glaring fiercely: "You 'paper slaves', remember this, every month, you must hand in ten 'blood papers'. If you're missing one, that's a whip... if you're missing five or more, well, there's no need for you to live."
'This original body is a bit miserable... seems to be a slave?'
