The squat half-orc bares his tusks, his fingers short and thick, yet he wields the knife with astonishing dexterity, flashing it up and down in a blur. The gruesome and bloody act of skinning, under his execution, appears methodical, meticulous; he even steals moments to greedily lick the blood from the blade, much like a master chef tasting his concoction.

Clearly, this half-orc has performed this act countless times; the captive’s piercing screams do nothing to interrupt his ‘work.’ In less than ten minutes, the prisoner’s skin is completely flayed, leaving behind a writhing, monstrous lump of flesh! More horrifyingly, due to the residual effects of the "Hychimga Slime" he had previously ingested, his life stubbornly persists!

The bloody human skin, once peeled away, is mostly collected by another half-orc standing nearby, who appears positively salivating—Fang Senyan even witnesses it making a finger-sucking gesture—before being deposited into a nearby stone basin. Some scraps of skin are discarded nearby, drifting in the wind alongside pieces of hide already dried. After gathering the flayed skins, the half-orcs toss a spark into the stone basin, which had clearly been pre-loaded with flammable material, causing the flames to immediately surge upward.

Despite the howling cold wind, a massive plume of blood-red smoke rises from the brazier, ascending straight toward the heavens. Everyone present is assailed by an indescribable odor, as if boiled blood had been mixed with exotic spices—a sickeningly sweet pungency that seems to penetrate the viscera and linger relentlessly.

Next, several half-orcs hoist the skinless captive and toss him into the chasm plunging thousands of feet below! The captive's shrill cries stretch out, echoing and rebounding off the icy peaks, slowly fading only after a long duration.

Nearly all the captives are profoundly shaken by this mysterious and malevolent ritual. Though there are seasoned human hunters among them, they cannot fathom the purpose behind the actions of these half-orcs and the tentacled creature. The only certainty is that a fate of utter misery awaits them!! Though they struggle frantically, the magical vines binding them feel like the noose of Death itself, suffocating their vitality!!

Time marches swiftly. Captives are continually dragged onto the stone altar, screaming hideously as they are flayed into bloody messes and then hurled into the abyss. The stripped skins are tossed into the brazier and burned. Among them are members of the Elven race. Listening to the screams of his former companions, watching them reduced to such horror, Fang Senyan notices that the fear in Mist Song’s eyes—the elf beside him—is slowly receding, replaced by an intense resolve.

Although the elven maiden’s face still registers shock, faint green luminescence begins to flicker from her hands, bound tightly behind her back. Though the light is constantly suppressed by the black ropes, it shines on stubbornly. This must be the uniqueness of the Dawn Elves; even those specially crafted vines cannot completely seal their powers. Clearly, the girl has made up her mind: whatever the cost, she must escape this pathetic fate of being skinned alive and hurled into the fathomless gulf!

After skinning three or four individuals consecutively, the squat executioner starts to feel weary. To flay a person alive while intentionally keeping them from dying is an extremely taxing endeavor, both physically and mentally. He casually sits down on the ground, scoops a cup of fresh blood from the stone platform, and greedily laps and drinks it, all while his small eyes fixate on Mist Song’s form, gradually emitting a dark, wicked gleam.

From the bizarre behavior of these half-orcs, it is now evident: their earlier preferential treatment of the captives was clearly intended to keep them in peak condition, ensuring they would still be alive after being flayed!! Although the motive remains unknown, this very fact prevents them from violating Mist Song, as many elves possess the ability to sacrifice their lives to nature, transforming themselves into a seed.

But now, these half-orcs know that the elves' abilities are restrained by the "Whip of Black Thought" binding them. Furthermore, the half-orc who bound Mist Song was likely experienced in such things, wrapping and tying her delicate curves with expert precision, accentuating every line. The squat executioner licks his lips, his ** visibly swelling beneath his hide.

He rises abruptly, roughly stroking the ** that bulges beneath his coarse pelt, and walks toward Mist Song with ** in his eyes. Mist Song’s complexion is slightly pale, yet she maintains an air of haughtiness and detachment. Her lips are tightly pressed, but behind her, the green sparks on her bound hands are already gathering strength.

Meanwhile, Fang Senyan is poised to strike! Compared to the other captives, Fang Senyan holds a significant advantage: his Strength remains at 37 points. In this world, which proves to be supremely difficult for them, this is an undeniably formidable statistic—especially considering the other captives lack equipment bonuses. This is the result of Fang Senyan’s tireless struggling finally yielding fruit. Though he paid the price with chafed, bleeding wrists, the binding vines around him have visibly loosened, granting his hands a degree of freedom.

Just as the half-orc nears Mist Song, Fang Senyan’s muscles suddenly tense, then contract and release! A massive burst of power explodes at his wrists. The black vine snaps with a crack, tearing into three or four pieces before falling to the ground; the severed strands writhe momentarily like dead snakes before stiffening. This sudden turn of events was utterly unexpected by all—though the muscular Reef-Stone had already foreseen Fang Senyan’s intent.

Fang Senyan violently pushes off the ground with his feet and launches himself forward in a trajectory parallel to the earth! Snow scatters beneath him, but his target is not the utterly repulsive squat half-orc; his aim is the nearest tentacled creature!

The reasoning is simple: while they have a firm grasp of the half-orcs' methods of attack, the tentacle beast’s method remains untested. It is hard to imagine what physical damage those short, thin octopus tentacles could inflict, suggesting its main threat lies in spellcasting. Conversely, its massive, gray, fleshy head appears remarkably vulnerable to physical strikes. And once the tentacle beast is engaged, the skinning half-orc, no matter how lust-crazed, would be unable to proceed with his atrocities against Mist Song!

Undoubtedly, Fang Senyan’s assault is a resounding success. A metallic sheen glints off his clenched fists as they cut through the air with a low whistle, slamming toward the gray head of the nearby tentacle beast. Though the creature didn't anticipate Fang Senyan's sudden explosion, the ring of eyes encircling its head leaves it with absolutely no blind spot!

Just as Fang Senyan’s fist is about to connect, the eye facing him suddenly flares like a neon lamp before shooting out a beam of ash-black light resembling a laser!

This beam reaches Fang Senyan’s chest first, instantly producing a puff of black smoke. Fang Senyan feels a searing, burning pain; the point of impact is ripped open, bleeding raw. More bizarrely, his entire body takes on a dull ash-gray hue. The Nightmare Imprint immediately relays a notification:

“You have been struck by a Mental Ray. After defense reduction, you sustained 127 points of damage. Damage type: Mental. Your talent: Tenacity is ineffective.”

“You have been inflicted with the Corruption Curse: Weakness. Your Attack Power is reduced by 15%.”

“Damn it! Just the type I despise!” Fang Senyan grits out.

But his fist connects with the creature’s head regardless!

The hardened fist slams into the soft cranial matter, and tragedy is inevitable! Two damage numbers flash: 49! 25! The former is Fang Senyan’s base attack value; the latter is the overwhelming crush damage! As thick, grayish-white mucus sprays out, the tentacle beast flails wildly, its tentacles whipping out, leaving arcs of electric energy and scorch marks across Fang Senyan’s body. Unmoved, Fang Senyan’s face is like iron; he viciously follows up with a second punch, striking squarely onto the tentacle beast’s eye facing him.

A series of dull thuds rings out, like water-logged grape seeds being forcibly squeezed. This vicious punch from Fang Senyan instantly obliterates the creature’s two eyes. A mixture of black, white, and red pulp flows thickly downward, dripping onto the rock face where it quickly congeals into a jelly-like mass in the cold air.

With these two eyes brutally destroyed, the tentacle beast has lost its most potent attack method. It struggles madly, whipping its tentacles everywhere, desperately trying to twist its head so its other eyes gain an angle of attack. But Fang Senyan will not grant it that chance! A flicker of cold, brutal light flashes in his eyes. Ignoring the two enraged half-orcs roaring and pouncing from behind, he retracts both fists and strikes again with crushing force!