The guards holding the tridents couldn't help but shudder at the sight of Prince Yong's frantic struggles.
Shang Rong cried out in fear, "Quick! Hold him down!"
To think that even now, Prince Yong still had this much strength.
It took the combined effort of eight men to barely restrain Zhao Minghong. His golden crown was knocked askew, and his hair was a mess.
His face was forcefully pressed against the cold stone floor, the fire in his eyes burning at its peak.
Once they confirmed Prince Yong's limbs were again pinned firmly to the ground,
Su Fengyue sneered, rose to his feet, and circled Prince Yong before stepping onto his back and shoulders.
The feeling of truly grinding this man of imperial blood under his heel was so exquisite that Su Fengyue felt the wound on his head no longer ached.
