Aspiring to the Immortal Path Chapter 24: Spurring On

Translated by: Hypersheep325
Edited by: Michyrr

"Beat him! Beat him! Give him a good beating for me!"

In the Meditation Garden, Wei Tianchong sat on a long chair and pointed at Tang Jie, who had been tied up on a tree. A bandage was wrapped around Wei Tianchong's head—the result of a wound to his head after he had fallen from his horse. It still throbbed with pain even now, causing him to hate Tang Jie even more.

Shi Mo coldly laughed as he took out a whip that had been soaked in water and began to viciously whip Tang Jie. With one lash, a bloody wound was created on Tang Jie's chest.

Pa! Pa! The sound of the whip cracking resounded through the Meditation Garden, and wounds began to accumulate on Tang Jie's body. Shi Mo resented him for what he had done earlier, and he showed no mercy, some of his lashes intentionally striking Tang Jie's face. As a result, Tang Jie's entire face was soon a bloody mess.

But Tang Jie didn't make a single sound throughout, only coldly stared at Shi Mo.

His eyes were so chilling that Shi Mo couldn't help but be afraid.

But a moment later, he considered that Tang Jie was still tied to a tree, so what did he have to fear? He savagely said, "Still trying to act tough!"

He mindlessly lashed the whip again and again.

After numerous lashes, Shi Mo finally ran out of strength. He threw the whip at Shi Meng and said, "Your turn! Once you're tired, switch with someone else! For daring to kill the young master's horse, he deserves to be whipped to death!"

Pain!

Endless and indescribable pain!

It was a pain that made life worse than death!

Even in ancient times, whipping had been an extremely terrifying form of punishment.

During the whipping, a person's flesh would be lacerated and mutilated, and after ceaseless whipping, one's flesh would be separated from one's bones. A brutal torturer might even keep whipping until the bones were visible. This could truly be described as death by a thousand cuts. 

The whips of the Wei Clan were just ordinary rattan whips, but the wounds still burned with pain, and the strike

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