"Ah... it hurts like hell... you..."
Due to his weakness, Xueyang couldn't break free from Meng Yang's grip. However, Meng Yang had smeared some unknown substance on his palms. Whenever it touched Xueyang's wounds, the prince felt the pain magnify tenfold. The burning agony was akin to being tortured.
"Prince Xueyang, you're injured. It's not good for you to exert yourself by talking. Let me support you; I'll take you to the hospital in a bit," Meng Yang said, before "considerately" clamping his hand over Xueyang's mouth.
"MMPH... MMPH..."
Xueyang was in so much pain that he almost passed out.
"Who will come to save me?" Xueyang thought desperately. He turned to look at Ban Rongchen, his only lifeline. It just hurt too much. "Dammit! That old bastard Ban Rongchen is pretending not to see me!" Xueyang was consumed by hatred.
