Maintaining this half-squatting, half-lying posture for a full ten days, every muscle in his body ached, and his heart felt all the more stifled and oppressed.
If someone with claustrophobia were thrown into this environment, never mind ten days, they probably couldn't hold out for even a minute.
Ding Canghai counted as a man of iron will; back when he worked as an assassin, he had squatted alone at ambush points in the wild for days on end, but now even he felt an emptiness and panic gnawing at him inside.
His right hand was bent against his chest, fingers pinching an energy biscuit and sending it into his mouth, chewing down hard a few times.
His mouth was bone dry; the energy biscuit soaked up what little saliva he had, making it almost impossible to swallow.
He had to open his mouth and let the alloy hose beside him, used for delivering drinking water, reach his lips, then lightly suck twice, and immediately spit the hose back out, not daring to drink more.
