When Zhang Yufeng and his group accepted the whipping, there were exactly seventy-three wounds on Jiang Xuerou's body. Right after, before she could catch her breath, Zhang Yufeng's group began stitching her wounds.
No disinfection, no anesthesia, Zhang Yufeng and a few novices at medical arts seemed to be sewing cowhide, showing no empathy or care.
At first, Jiang Xuerou still had the strength to wail and plead, but after a day, she couldn't utter a sound even if she wanted to.
In this way, three days passed, and after the third day, Zhang Yufeng and his group tied her up and carried her into a business vehicle.
"Where are you taking me?" Her hoarse voice sounded like that of an eighty-year-old woman, hard to imagine it coming from a woman in her twenties. Jiang Xuerou's gaze filled with horror, suddenly recalling An Yiqing's words from three days ago.
Destroy the Jiang Family? Three days later, destroy the Jiang Family!
