Thick black smoke poured from the jagged hole in the battleship’s forecastle.
Down in the dark, waterlogged bilge, heavy footsteps echoed against the ballast stones.
SPLASH! SPLASH!
General Meng and Tie Niu marched through the stagnant bilge-water, each carrying a set of heavy karmic iron shackles.
Between two slimy granite boulders, Sima Kuang lay curled into a pathetic ball.
His golden silk robes were shredded into dirty rags, soaked in rancid engine oil and murky bilge muck.
His hair was burned off on one side, and two massive purple bruises swelled around his eyes, making him look like a plucked, half-cooked rooster.
“Get up, fancy donkey,” Tie Niu snorted, grabbing Sima Kuang by the collar of his ruined undershirt.
