Huo Jingfeng remained motionless as a mountain, not uttering a single plea for mercy, as if each lash fell upon someone else's body. But beads of sweat the size of peas had already seeped from his temples, falling like torrential rain to the floor before him, blending into a pool of sweat stains.
He clenched his teeth, his facial muscles taut, his thin lips tightly pressed into a line, losing their rosy hue and turning pale, he held his breath, forcing all air down his throat, not allowing himself to make a sound, crushing all noise in his chest. His fingers, tightly clenched together, seemed on the brink of breaking, the veins on the backs of his hands ready to burst. Even though his back felt the searing pain of a million needles, making his head dizzy, he made no sound. He knew that if he made even a slight noise, he would despise himself.
