The contrast in Jiang Xingze's behavior was jarring. He was like a high and mighty emperor who had suddenly been reduced to a lowly beggar, pleading with the crowd.
Each thud of his head hitting the ground echoed through the jungle, landing in the hearts of the onlookers like the most beautiful music in the world.
No one pitied him. He had been too arrogant, too detestable.
It was a classic case of kicking a man while he was down.
"Spare me... Spare me..."
Jiang Xingze muttered in terror. The venomous snake coiled around his neck was like a Demon, grinning menacingly, ready to end his life at any moment.
He was suffering a profound humiliation, laughed at by the crowd like a pathetic clown. He wished he could dig a hole and crawl into it.
Just then, the Silver White Snake on Jiang Xingze's neck flowed down his body like a gentle stream. Its bewitching movements were an irresistible temptation, much like a poppy blooming in a barren field—to love it was to suffer a fatal wound.
