Those who were tormented and on the brink of death looked at the prison door being opened, as if seeing a glimmer of hope in their despair.
Shen Juncheng saw those people coming out and thought they could delay for a while.
He carried Su An'an again, dodging left and right, and exited the dungeon.
It was already the hour of the boar.
On a moonless, windy night, perfect for murder and arson.
Shen Juncheng stopped on a large tree and looked down; Su An'an was still in shock, feeling dizzy from being carried.
As soon as he released her, she slumped on a thick branch beside her, clutching her stomach and taking deep breaths.
The jostling made her feel a little nauseous.
Shen Juncheng glanced at her; her hair bun had long since unraveled, silky black hair falling and covering half her delicate face, ashen pale, looking pitiable.
