They saw two prison guards, one on each side, dragging an almost limp figure to the empty cell opposite the two women and threw the person in like a sack of broken hemp.
Then they turned and walked away without leaving a single unnecessary word.
In the Imperial Prison, speaking to prisoners with severe sentences was a violation of the rules.
Wu Ling fell to the ground, powerless. This renowned actor from the Eight Directions Theater had a face pale as death, no longer clad in acting robes but in prisoner garb.
There weren't many visible wounds, the only conspicuous one was at the waist, a blood-stained area.
If one were to lift the clothes, they could see a copper nail embedded into the flesh of the abdomen to seal off all the mana within the body.
"Cough... cough cough..."
Wu Ling coughed, gasped for a while, and felt some strength returning. He barely managed to get up and, through the bars, saw the two familiar faces opposite. He cracked a faint smile and said,
