In a room bathed in a serene glow, four gruff men watched as the young girl before them had a complexion ashen as death, her eye sockets already reddened early on, eyes brimming with tears she stubbornly refused to let fall. Her slender wrists stretched out, as pale as frost and more pristine than snow, with even the blue veins beneath her skin clearly visible, rendering her even more fragile and pitiable. Their hearts couldn't help but be moved: Could it be that they had indeed wronged her?
Old K stepped forward a few paces, originally holding the Golden Shackles, ready to clasp them around her wrists. Seeing her state, he involuntarily slowed down, as if his body no longer obeyed his will, seemingly reluctant to place the shackles on her hands. After all, his cultivation was profound, and he bellowed: "Still playing tricks!" With his Dao Heart resolved, the Golden Shackles descended rapidly.
