Chapter 875:

His hands and feet were bound. The restraints, laced with toxins, drained what little strength he had left.

He could not change. He could not run. He could not fight.

And the people? They were relentless.

“Scum!”

“Evil devil!”

“May your soul rot in the nine hells!”

Their hatred was a chorus, hot as the sun beating down on him.

of how far he had fallen—from Great Lord to this,

lightly. But this public disgrace was

of guards. “You deserve justice of the people!” she screamed,

saliva struck his cheek, hot and reeking of

snarl, to bare his fangs. But all that came out

was too weak. Starved of food. Deprived

the barrier between order and chaos was thin. Twice already mobs had tried to hurl themselves at him during

“Give him to us!”

“Hand him over!”

deserves to die

a soldier shouted, trying to hold back the

But then it happened.

just for you

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