"Hey! You stinking bald donkey! Are you going to kill yourself, or do you want me to do it for you?"
THUD!
A heavy footstep thudded in front of Yang An. The once-dark prison cell suddenly brightened, though even complete darkness was no different from broad daylight to a Cultivator.
The man who walked up to Yang An was tall and burly, clad in a suit of tattered armor. Every patch of exposed skin was covered in ugly, centipede-like scars.
He even had three more eyes on his forehead, like vertical slits. The pupils within these eyes were all different colors, giving him a bizarre appearance.
He also wore heavy shackles on his feet. With a single glance, Yang An could see that the shackles had sealed the Mana in the man's body, preventing him from using any Mana or activating the Power of Rules.
