C132 Pinnate Dust

In the open space of the small house, four thick iron chains were stretched out. A white-haired old man was hanging on them. His clothes were tattered and his body was covered in silver needles. He remained motionless with his eyes closed as if he was a martyr.

Luo Qian could not help but exclaim in fear. She grabbed onto Wang Baoyu's arm. It was precisely this sound that woke up this old man