"Tsk tsk, this man is the famed White-Robed General, one of the almighty Ancient Battlefield's Three Kings Yet now, he is imprisoned here like a hound."
Outside the prison, a tormented soul mocked him. He was even toying with a mask in his hands — a mask that belonged to the White-Robed General.
However, it was now fiddling in the hands of a tormented soul.
Inside the prison, the White-Robed General remained silent. His long black hair fell over his shoulders and covered half of his face, making it hard to make out his true looks.
His energy was extremely weak as the innate ferocious qi within his body was constantly drained out. This process was not torturous, but it felt like an eternity. Sooner or later, his consciousness would be slowly sapped too.
It was just like a human who was sucked dry of his or her blood.
These innate ferocious qi were like his blood.