The Ming Dynasty Princess's Bound Jade Chronicle

"Move!" Hu Bao roared, his voice hoarse. "The old rule of the Yellow Guard, to loosen the muscles and bones of these noble feet!" The words "loosen muscles and bones" were squeezed from between his teeth, carrying a grinding, viscous cruelty. Beside him, a banner guard with a scar across his face, named Zhang Biao, stepped forward immediately, a sneer mixed with cruel, pathological excitement on his face. "Yes! Please, County Princess... lift your noble foot!" He bowed, his right hand like an eagle's talon, precisely reaching for the ankle of Zhu Qingyao, encased in an exquisite red satin court shoe. His posture was practiced and sacrilegious. Zhu Qingyao's entire body tensed like a drawn bowstring! She instinctively wanted to pull her foot away but was held fast. Shame burned through every nerve like molten lava! She wanted to curse, to scream, but her throat was choked by an invisible humiliation! Zhang Biao's rough fingers clamped onto her slender ankle without hesitation. The touch was cold, heavy, carrying the indelible scent of rust and decay from the depths of the imperial prison, slithering onto her skin like a snake. Overwhelming shame almost tore her reason apart, and Zhu Qingyao struggled fiercely, her other foot suddenly kicking towards his lower leg! "Bang!" A dull thud of flesh. The difference in strength was immense. The kick landed as if against hard, frozen earth. Zhang Biao didn't budge, instead letting out a short, mocking chuckle: "Heh!" His other large hand, like a steel clamp, seized the area below her struggling knee! Zhu Qingyao's legs screamed in pain from the forceful grip, her body lost its balance, and if not for another banner guard firmly holding her shoulders and arms, she would have collapsed to the ground! She was forced to stand on the cold golden bricks, her skirt tangled from her struggles, her legs exposed from the calf down to the suffocating air. The red satin embroidered shoes, once hidden beneath her fine robes, now glaringly encased her delicate, orchid-like jade feet. The golden phoenixes on the embroidery seemed to peck at her taut instep, a final bastion of dignity before the assault. "The County Princess is of noble birth, such rough work... we'll do it for you!" Zhang Biao grinned, his fingers like iron clamps gripping the upper edge of Zhu Qingyao's ankle, his knuckles turning white from the strain, and he yanked downwards with brute force! Raw power erupted! "Riiip—!" The precious silk let out a sharp, mournful cry of being ruthlessly torn apart by absolute violence! The phoenixes wailed, the lotus petals shattered. One embroidered red shoe was forcibly ripped from her foot, flung away, and crashed against a toppled inlaid mother-of-pearl eight-immortal wine vessel in the distance, with a crisp "clang." Wine spilled, and the golden phoenix shoe was stained with mud and liquor. "Ah!" A suppressed, short cry of pain finally broke through Zhu Qingyao's clenched teeth! It wasn't from the physical pain, but from the chilling shame and humiliation of her sole suddenly exposed to the cold air, under countless gazes – some shocked, some lewd, some as focused and burning as Hu Bao's! She had been completely stripped of her noble shell, laid bare in this hellish arena! Her cheeks felt as if they'd been scalded by boiling oil, a searing pain that pierced to the bone! Her feet, which had been pampered with silk, scented with aloeswood since childhood, and never revealed to outsiders, were now exposed for all to see! The jade-white instep suddenly curled inwards, her perfectly rounded toes, like pearls, trembled and clenched tightly, tinged with a pale, sickly red, shaking like wounded, dying fledglings in the snow. "The other one!" Zhang Biao's grotesque laughter was like a viper's hiss. His target shifted to her other foot! "Enough!" Hu Bao suddenly roared, his voice drowning out Zhang Biao's sneer and the hushed murmurs in the hall. His cold gaze swept over Zhang Biao's overly excited face, carrying an invisible pressure. Zhang Biao's excitement froze, as if doused with cold water, his movements faltering. Hu Bao strode forward, pushing Zhang Biao aside. He didn't look at Zhu Qingyao's toes, slightly reddened by humiliation and cold, but his gaze, sharp as a falcon's, locked onto the remaining exquisite red satin embroidered shoe on her left foot. More precisely, it focused on the taut outline beneath the shoe – the instep and ankle, not yet exposed but bound like a lamb awaiting slaughter. He squatted down directly! His heavy body landed on the cold golden bricks, his armor clanking with a low, resonant sound. There was no hint of subservience in his movement; instead, it carried an oppressive air, like a predator examining its prey. A large hand with thick knuckles and calloused fingertips reached out, like that of a beast of prey. It didn't tear, but with an irresistible force, it gripped the narrow, hard heel of Zhu Qingyao's left red satin court shoe – precisely supporting the roundest, most vulnerable point of her heel. His slightly warm, rough fingertips, through the smooth red satin, pressed against the most sensitive hollow at the back of her instep! Zhu Qingyao felt a sudden tightening at the back of her foot, an indescribable heat and strange pressure piercing through her bones from the sole! Her right foot, exposed to the cold air, was already extreme shame and humiliation, but with her left foot gripped at the heel like this, feeling that scorching, coarse touch through the silk, the shame felt like a venomous snake doubling its bite on her heart! She could barely stand, a taste of blood rising in her throat. Her body instinctively tensed in resistance, the golden bricks beneath her feet gleamed, reflecting her pale face and the struggling figure she cut. Finally, after a stretch of steps as long as eternity, she stood beneath the rack. A gaunt, diminutive old man materialized from the rack's shadow like a phantom, utterly silent. He wore coarse, dark cloth, his hands calloused, knuckles thick and deformed, his eyes cloudy yet precise as a ruler. He was the "Rope Master." In his hands was not rough hemp, but a set of black metal implements glinting with a cold, dark light. Hu Bao also approached, his cruel smile returning to his face: "Consider yourself lucky, to have Elder Shen attend to you. This is his masterpiece – the 'Butterfly Wing Shackles,' custom-made for nobility. Elegant and light, guaranteed... to in no way dishonor the County Princess's noble status!" Shen the Rope Master's withered hand, ignoring Zhu Qingyao's trembling, lifted her left foot, stained with blood and frost, as if handling a precious artifact. The icy metal touched her skin, sending a shiver of near-death through her. His movements were impossibly swift. Several black cords snaked around her ankles, and the "Butterfly Wing Shackles"—two curved plates shaped like butterfly wings—snapped precisely onto the bony protrusions on either side of her ankle. The mechanism in the center clicked softly, then tightened with a sudden snap! Zhu Qingyao's entire body tensed, cold sweat instantly soaking her undergarments. This was not the pain of constriction, but the sharp agony of joint bones being forcibly pried apart! The inner surfaces of the Butterfly Wing Shackles were lined with a fine, sand-like abrasive. Every tiny shift brought a torment like sandpaper grinding bone. Her left foot was locked tightly within, utterly immobile. Shen the Rope Master followed suit, his cold, rough fingers grasping her right foot. Zhu Qingyao instinctively recoiled, her right foot pushing against the ice, a sharp pain shooting straight to her head. Those feet, once delicate jade, as tender as congealed fat, were now covered in scratches, bruises, frostbite, and dried blood. In the dim light of the ice chamber, they possessed a broken, desolate beauty. Hu Bao stared intently at those feet, his Adam's apple bobbing rapidly. His breathing became inexplicably heavy. "Hurry up!" he suddenly urged, his voice sharp, masking a flicker of annoyance he himself didn't understand. "Yes, Commander," Shen the Rope Master replied, his voice devoid of emotion. He reached to the base of the rack and pulled a protruding beast head. *Bzzzzzz—!* A heavy grinding of gears echoed. The iron shackles on Zhu Qingyao's wrists were yanked upward with immense force! She was pulled into the air, flung heavily against the rack! Her back slammed against the cold cast-iron crossbar. Almost simultaneously, pre-positioned locks sprang from either side of the rack, and with a series of "clicks," they secured the heavy iron shackles on her wrists and ankles! Her limbs were spread wide in an "X" shape, firmly fixed to the cold rack. Her body was completely exposed. Her skirt lay in disarray, offering no concealment whatsoever. Her scarred ankles, locked in the "Butterfly Wing Shackles," dangled, naked, in the frigid air, trembling slightly from the intense pain and humiliation. Like two butterflies pinned to a butcher's block. Shen the Rope Master retreated into the shadows, silent. Hu Bao paced slowly forward, stopping in front of the rack. His gaze, like viscous liquid, greedily settled once more on those bare feet, shackled, scarred, and hanging naked. The chill of the ice chamber seeped into her exposed skin, bit by bit. Her bruised toes curled stiffly in the cold metal crevices, the color drained from her toenails. The torchlight flickered in Hu Bao's eyes, a mixture of brutality and a twisted obsession causing the flesh on his face to twitch. He instinctively reached out, his rough fingers almost brushing against that cold, dangling, still-trembling left foot. Zhu Qingyao on the rack suddenly looked up. Her phoenix eyes, clouded with mist from the cold and pain, were now like blades quenched in ice, piercing him directly! There was no pleading in her gaze, no fear, only an almost tangible, icy flame that burned through the pervasive shame and agony. She bit down hard on her lower lip, and a new, deeper crimson line traced its way down. On the cold stone floor of the chamber, a huddled figure breathed raggedly in the darkness. Zhu Qingyao struggled free from the lingering waves of pain, her body trembling uncontrollably. Her feet – those jade feet once meticulously cared for in embroidered slippers adorned with golden threads, admired by countless noble sons of the capital – now hung heavily in the air. The tips of her toes could only scratch faint, almost inaudible marks on the rough ground, finding no solid support. The hemp ropes, soaked in cold water last night, had tightened around her slender ankles and insteps like the deadly kiss of venomous snakes, leaving deep purple welts. Every throbbing ache was a sharp reminder of the humiliation brought by the 'Silkworm Binding'. Her breath hitched, each inhale pulling at the wounds all over her body, especially her tormented feet. Even now, released, the numbness and swelling deep in her bones refused to recede. Suppressed sobs echoed in the dim stone chamber, her voice appearing minuscule in the emptiness, yet it was the only proof she had that she hadn't completely broken. Outside the door, heavy chains rattled, accompanied by the steady rhythm of boots on stone. Hu Bao's imposing figure blocked the faint light from the entrance, casting a shadow that enveloped Zhu Qingyao entirely. He squinted, as if examining a broken yet still lustrous piece of porcelain, his gaze lingering for a long time on her slightly twitching, bare feet. "Tsk, the 'Rope Master's' skill is truly top-notch," he rasped, his voice carrying an almost playful tone. "This County Princess's jade feet, the foundation is truly excellent. To still be able to stand after the 'Silkworm Binding' without turning into mud." He paced closer, the metal buckles on his leather boots clinking against the stone floor, a sound that made Zhu Qingyao's heart pound. "What are ice brick paths? What are wet hemp ropes? The hospitality of the Yellow Character Directorate, honored guests naturally receive the full treatment." He leaned down, a strong scent of cheap tobacco and blood assaulting her senses. Without warning, his rough hand gripped Zhu Qingyao's slender ankle bone with such force that she nearly cried out in pain. The dense purple marks were accidentally scraped by his fingernails, causing another stab of sharp pain. He meticulously rubbed the protruding bones beneath the cold skin, as if weighing the sinews of an object. "A sturdy frame," he grunted, then suddenly released his grip. Zhu Qingyao's ankle fell limply back onto the cold ground. "Get up!" Hu Bao straightened, his voice suddenly stern. "The 'Silkworm Binding' has finished with your body, now it's time to 'temper the sharp edges' for these feet. Guards! Attend to the County Princess for her 'makeup'!" Two guards, also clad in embroidered robes, responded and entered. Their movements were rough but well-trained. One held down Zhu Qingyao's shoulders as she instinctively resisted in fear, while the other placed a cold, heavy, peculiarly shaped iron contraption around her neck – a rigid wooden collar, lined with polished leather on the inside, pressing tightly against her jawbone and slender neck, leaving a suffocating sense of pressure. Immediately after, a more profound chill wrapped around her ankles. These were no ordinary shackles; two exceptionally thick iron chain rings, covered in minute casting burrs, were locked onto her feet. The chains extended upwards, passed through the iron rings on either side of the collar, and then hung down again, their ends securely fastened by the guards to iron rings embedded in the floor. The moment the lock clicked shut, Zhu Qingyao felt the weight of her entire body shift to these two points – her neck bore a combined force of downward and forward pull, as if choked by an invisible giant hand. Every slight dip or struggle drove the iron ring deeper into the soft flesh of her neck; her ankles were pressed by the cold, sharp edges of the metal. The thin skin on the top of her feet, almost completely torn open by the 'Silkworm Binding' and oozing blood, was once again subjected to the cruelest friction against the raw iron. The cold, hard, heavy sense of restraint crawled from her ankles to her neck, connecting into a merciless whole, imprisoning her in this cage woven from iron and pain. Hu Bao clapped his hands with satisfaction on the heavy, snake-like iron chains. "A 'gift' specially prepared for noble ladies, a unique 'honor' of the Yellow Character Directorate. Every step, every movement, carries 'reflection', heavy, isn't it? This is what has 'flavor'!" He grinned, his lips curling into a fake smile. "Open the 'Path of Reflection'! Send the County Princess to 'grind' a bit!" The heavy prison gate creaked open, and a gust of wind carrying the scent of mold and a faint hint of腥气 (xīngqì - fishy/bloody smell) rushed in. A passage leading to a deeper, darker area was illuminated by lamplight. However, the ground of this passage was by no means ordinary stone slabs. Two guards roughly hauled Zhu Qingyao to her feet. The moment her feet were forced to the ground, the immense pulling force from the chains on her ankles made her stumble. The collar dug fiercely into her throat, the suffocation making her vision blacken, and she choked uncontrollably. And when the bare, already scarred, tender soles of her feet truly landed on the mixture of small gravel and coarse salt grains covering the path – "Ughhh—!" A piercing scream erupted uncontrollably from her throat, constricted by the collar, tearing through the stagnant air of the Yellow Character Directorate. The sensation far surpassed the biting cold of the ice brick path, far surpassed the slow constriction of the wet hemp ropes! The sharp edges of the gravel seemed like countless tiny awls, instantly piercing the already fragile skin of her soles! The rough salt grains fiercely ground into the cracked flesh, rubbing against every wound, every bruise, magnifying the excruciating pain a hundredfold! Each step was like walking barefoot on a red-hot iron caltrop board studded with needles! The weight of the chains and the suffocation of the collar forced her to exert all her strength to resist the downward pull with every step, and this resistance itself compelled her bare feet to grind, slide, and drag across the sharp, coarse salt and stones! The chains scraped against the ground, emitting a teeth-grinding "clatter—sizzle—" sound. She had never imagined that walking could be as brutal as being sliced by a thousand cuts. Cold sweat instantly soaked through her thin prisoner's robe. "Walk steadily! Princess Zhaoren!" Hu Bao's voice came from behind, cold and deliberately mocking. "Where are the manners you learned in the palace? Hold yourself up! Let us brothers see how a noble lady of the Great Ming 'dignifiedly' treads on salt grains! This is called 'tempering the sharp edges'! It's the most 'decorous' task among the 'Thirty-six Forms of Discipline'!" Ahead, the lamplight was dim, the passage seemingly endless. Only the crunching sound of salt grains and碎砾 (suì lì - crushed gravel) underfoot, making one's scalp tingle, mixed with the faint sizzling sound of her skin and flesh being torn, bleeding, and then sticking to the salt grains, and her own involuntary, short gasps of pain squeezed through her teeth. With every step, a bloody imprint was left. She was forced to lift her foot, the heavy shackles like a persistent gangrene, dragging her. The bare sole left the ground, pulling the skin and flesh from the rough salt, adhering to fine sand and blood foam, then landing heavily again. The pain surged like a tide, rushing to her head, only to be forcefully suppressed by the heavy collar around her neck. Cold sweat flowed like paste, sliding down her temples, dripping onto the iron chains, instantly chilling. On both sides of the passage were spaced iron bars of prison cells. Some blurred dark figures swayed behind the bars. The sound of footsteps and chains disturbed the creatures in the darkness. Her steps were slow, but the intervals between them were strangely becoming more consistent! The clatter of the heavy chains being dragged, no longer chaotic and harsh, now carried a... a sense of eerie rhythm, deliberately suppressed into something veiled? Like a cornered person, using their last ounce of strength, clumsily and stubbornly beating a rusty gong! Was she numb from the pain? Or... was she holding something back? A flicker of surprise crossed Hu Bao's eyes, his steps involuntarily slowing as he fixed his gaze on the solitary figure ahead, burdened by heavy chains, treading on sharp stones, yet exuding an indescribable stubbornness. The long "Path of Reflection" finally reached its end. It opened into a more expansive space, still divided into countless small cells by iron bars. The guards roughly unfastened the iron ring connecting her shackles at the nape of her neck, leaving only the heavy fetters on her ankles and the cangue around her neck. In that instant, the sudden release of immense pressure from her neck made Zhu Qingyao feel a wave of weakness. Stars danced before her eyes, and her body swayed. If not for the cold wall behind her, she would have collapsed. The moment her feet left the terrifying, salt-encrusted ground, before the sense of relief could spread from the nerve endings in her soles, the sharp physical stimulation was replaced by a sudden eruption of a thousand needle pricks, a deep, marrow-piercing ache! A searing, tearing sensation spread wildly along every wound, every abrasion pickled by salt crystals! The calves of her legs suddenly tightened, becoming as hard as iron, spasming uncontrollably. Leaning against the cold stone wall, her body softly slid down to the equally hard and cold ground, curling into a ball. Her chest heaved violently, each rapid breath pulling at the edge of the cangue, scraping new dull pains at her throat, which was filled with the salty, metallic taste of rust. She lowered her head, her black hair falling to cover her cheeks and neck, which were marked with deep red indentations from the cangue. Her gaze fell upon her feet. Those once lustrous, jade-like feet were now unrecognizable. The soles were a mess, covered in gray-black dust, tiny grit, and more glaringly, fresh blood seeping from countless tiny cracks and the edges of deep purple bruises. Blood mixed with dirt and white salt crystals, congealing into a sticky, dark red at the edges where her feet met the shackles. New wounds, where the metal edges of the specially made shackles had rubbed, were peeling flesh, and blood beads continued to seep slowly. She abruptly buried her face between her bent knees, shackled by heavy chains. Her shoulders began to heave violently. A muffled, suppressed whimper, like a severely wounded small animal, escaped from the gap between the cangue and her body. The sound was more heart-wrenching than a wail, carrying the ragged breath after a heart-rending cry and a bone-chilling cold. She was crying. But the bones and muscles deep within her body, repeatedly ravaged by sharp stones, coarse salt, and icy chains, tensed even more with this weeping. Her curled form was like a drawn bow, every trembling line containing a vast, forcibly compressed strength. Hu Bao stood a few steps away, watching quietly. The dim light outlined his stubble-covered, chiseled face. Beneath his thick brows, his eyes held no satisfaction or triumph at witnessing his prey's breakdown. Only deeper confusion and a barely perceptible tremor. He stared intently at her blood-stained, dust-covered feet, still bound by the restraints, yet taut with pain, then slowly shifted his gaze to the curve of her curled but straightened spine. She was crying... but her back hadn't collapsed. He suddenly remembered her steps in the "Path of Reflection," like she was bound by an invisible yoke, moving with that eerie rhythm. This woman... her bones weren't just hard. She was resisting in a way he couldn't comprehend! Not a frantic counterattack, not a desperate lament, but a cold, orderly, almost bizarre... persistence? Like a mountain spring, suppressed by a giant rock, yet still silently seeping and flowing! Hu Bao's Adam's apple bobbed, the muscles in his jaw tightening. He remained silent, his gaze complexly sweeping between Zhu Qingyao's trembling back and her blood-stained ankles, as if trying to pierce through the facade of weakness, to see what kind of fire still burned within that seemingly fragile body, beneath that already scarred soul. The jailer's heavy, ragged breaths stirred the stagnant air of the cell. His thick wrists were caught fast in the intricate, alien slipknot of Ryukyu rope, a restraint he'd prided himself on, meant for Zhu Qingyao's ankles, now his own manacles. Beads of sweat, slick with grime, rolled from his temples, splattering onto the damp, cold brick floor. "Bitch!" he snarled, his arm muscles bulging, straining against the seemingly delicate yet impossibly strong foreign knot. "What kind of knot is this?!" Zhu Qingyao leaned against the icy wall, her feet bare. Her embroidered shoes and silk socks were long gone after the stocking torture. Filthy dust clung to the soles of her feet, and the chilling dampness seeped into her bones from between her toes. Those feet, once accustomed to the brocade of palace gardens, only ever graced by fallen blossoms and fragrant dust, were now swollen, red, and caked with filth. She curled her body inward, appearing fragile and broken. Her lowered lashes hid a fleeting glint in her eyes, the last flicker of clarity born from the edge of despair, like the sharp thorns of a thistle struggling to break through frozen earth. Hu Bao's curses echoed in the cramped cell, the impotent rage of a trapped beast. Her silence was her only remaining weapon. Time crawled by in the stalemate. Hu Bao's struggles shifted from violent tearing to resentful gasps. Finally, he kicked hard against the wall, the rebound sending him stumbling back. A sickening crack from his wrist signaled the limit of bone, and the sharp pain forced a muffled groan, ending his futile resistance. "Alright... alright, Princess Zhaoren!" he panted, his gaze complex as it swept over the huddled figure on the floor, then fixed hatefully on his bound wrists. "You've got guts! Let's see... how long you can last here!" Before he finished, heavy footsteps thudded away, the cell door slammed shut with even greater force, the clang of the iron lock jarring. Darkness descended once more. But the suffocating pressure remained, merely retreating into the silent shadows beyond the door. True despair began to slowly settle in. Zhu Qingyao shifted with difficulty, her shackles scraping a grating sound against the cold bricks. Her toes brushed against the thick, slimy water seeping from the wall, the icy, slick sensation sending a shiver through her. In the deathly silence of the darkness, her senses were amplified. The soft drip of water in the corner, the faint moans of pain from the next cell, even the rustling of rats gnawing on decay… each sound was like a dull knife scraping against her taut nerves. Xu Shizhen's fanged face beneath his scholarly mask, her cousin Zhu Gaosui's silent lips before his execution—"Survive"—and the desperate cries of her family and servants as they were dragged away… countless voices and images churned and tore at her mind. She suddenly lowered her head, biting down hard on the hem of her coarse, rough burlap prison dress. Her teeth sank deep. Not to stifle a cry, but to prevent a deeper, will-shattering scream from tearing through her throat. A hint of rust filled her mouth, not from the corroding walls, but from the blood of her split gums. Her teeth dug into the rough texture of the burlap, grating against them. Yet, this sudden, sharp pain was like a cold silver needle, piercing through the chaotic fog. A thought, so extreme it was madness, like a spark igniting in the darkness, exploded in her mind! Her gaze, involuntarily, slowly fell to those scarred, dirt-caked bare feet—the feet that had once made her proud, that had drawn so many envious glances! Her final focus settled on her pale, rounded toes, smeared with wet mud. At the tips of her toes, ten thin fingernails remained like polished jade, stripped of all pretense. Time turned into thick liquid, clinging to her heavy breaths. When the rough food slot on the cell door was violently yanked open with a "clang," her entire body tensed, as if facing a formidable enemy! Blinding light pierced the darkness, accompanied by a bowl of sour-smelling thin gruel, shoved in carelessly. The slot slammed shut. The instant that rough wooden plank closed, swallowing the light once more— Zhu Qingyao moved! Her action was faster than the limit of speed, like a drawn bowstring suddenly taut and then snapping back with explosive force! Her slender waist unleashed astonishing power, and she flipped like a nimble cat, lunging! Without a shred of hesitation! She violently lifted her left foot, bending it at an angle so sharp it was almost self-mutilating! Her teeth parted, not for the food, but precisely, and fiercely, biting down on the most tender skin on the inside of her big toe! "Mmmph!" A piercing, bone-deep pain shot to her head! Her whole body trembled violently! Salty,腥 liquid immediately filled her mouth, the pungent smell of blood overwhelming the cell's stench! She dared not chew for another second, fearing that any pause would cause the pain to shatter her will! Her left leg retracted like lightning, her blood-stained toe like a brush dipped in cinnabar, fiercely stabbing into the rough burlap prison dress spread on the cold ground! Horizontal! Pull! Zhu Qingyao didn't look up, only the shadow cast by her eyelashes on her pale cheeks trembled almost imperceptibly. The metallic screech of the lock being opened was sharp and piercing. Hu Bao's tall figure entered first, bringing with him a chill mixed with the scent of rust, sweat, and instrument grease. Behind him followed the eunuch and the rope master, and finally, two guards as silent as iron blocks. The eunuch's sinister gaze swept over Zhu Qingyao in the corner, and he gestured with his chin towards the rope master: "Mr. Leng, please." Mr. Leng, the rope master, seemed oblivious to his surroundings, his focus solely on the "instrument" before him. He ignored Zhu Qingyao's presence and proceeded to take the heavy "Golden Lotus Linked Rings" from its leather case, placing it on the relatively dry ground in the center of the prison cell. Moonlight filtered through the bars, reflecting a cold, viper-fang-like gleam off the steel slots and barbs. Hu Bao walked up to Zhu Qingyao, his towering frame casting her almost entirely into shadow. He crouched down, his iron-gloved hand, reeking of cold rust, clamped onto her ankle with enough force to crush bone. Zhu Qingyao grunted, her body instantly tensing, but she stubbornly refused to cry out. She was passively dragged by the immense strength, her bare soles scraping against the rough, cold bricks, leaving new dark streaks on the dried blood, all the way to the torture device. The physical pain and the persistent cold prevented her from struggling violently, but her eyes, forcibly twisted to look at Hu Bao, burned with a clear, icy fire, silently repeating yesterday's poisoned whisper: "Leash the dog." Hu Bao avoided her gaze, as if pricked by a needle, and roughly pushed her to the ground. He didn't act himself, merely spitting out a single word towards the rope master: "Bind." The rope master squatted down like the most precise machine. He didn't touch Zhu Qingyao's skin, as if it were something filthy, his attention fixed only on her slender, fair, but now scarred legs and feet. He paid no heed to the fresh and old wounds, his withered hands steadily picking up the left metal hoop of the icy "Golden Lotus Linked Rings." Using a strange wooden caliper, he precisely measured the position above the tibia, just below the calf. His movements possessed an inhuman calm and professionalism as he adjusted the clasp of the metal hoop and then coldly fitted the inner ring, studded with barbs, into place. The moment the barb tips touched her skin, cold and sharp, Zhu Qingyao's body shuddered violently! Despair and primal fear seized her. She mustered her remaining strength and fiercely kicked out with her other, unconstrained foot towards the rope master! "Villain—!" The rope master reacted with astonishing speed, as if anticipating the attack. His thin arm seemed to effortlessly lift and block, easily deflecting the force. His movements were utterly unhurried, his eyes never leaving the instrument in his hands. It was as if even her resistance had been precisely calculated. A faint, crisp "click" sounded as the first hoop locked securely! Hu Bao reached out at the opportune moment, his iron-like hand instantly pressing down on the ankle of Zhu Qingyao's other kicking leg. The immense force pinned her ankle firmly to the cold ground, rendering it completely immobile. Zhu Qingyao thrashed and writhed futilely like a fish out of water, her chest heaving, her exhaled breaths condensing into white mist in the frigid air, a suppressed hiss escaping her throat like a trapped beast. The rope master indifferently picked up the right hoop, repeating the previous steps—measure, position, fit. Zhu Qingyao's body tensed like a bowstring amidst the torrent of fear and pain, fine beads of sweat mixed with grime rolling down her temples. When the cold metal, studded with barbs, touched the skin of her other leg, on the same tender spot above the tibia, the sharp pain of piercing flesh was clearly felt. This time, she didn't cry out, but bit down hard on her lower lip, a hint of blood instantly filling her mouth. "Click!" The second crisp locking sound, like the fall of a guillotine. The entire intricate device instantly tightened! The short, thick chain connecting the two metal hoops was pulled taut. The central rotating lock shaft, adorned with geometric镂空 patterns, seemed to come alive, reflecting a faint, eerie gleam in the moonlight. The barbs did not pierce straight, but were angled slightly inward with extreme cunning. The rope master