...
At five o'clock the next morning, the sky was still dark when Dina woke Lanling, holding a whip in her hand as usual.
Lanling embarked on yet another day of hellish trials.
Today's lead weights on his body had reached 410 pounds, and the deadwood sword in his hand weighed 400 pounds, bringing his total burden to 810 pounds.
In short, there was absolutely no room for relaxation—his physical limits were constantly being pushed to the edge.
"Run, run, run..." Dina commanded, cracking the whip against the ground to urge Lanling forward.
At this hour, the soldiers of the Foreign Tribe Army were supposed to be asleep.
But many got up early just to witness the scene, pointing at Lanling and laughing heartily.
Of course, the laughter bore no malice.
"Did you hear? That's the Chieftain's nephew, his actual nephew."
"Really? Doesn't look like it—you'd think he's prettier than a woman."
"Look closely, you'll see the resemblance."
