C939 Even If He Could Not Swallow It He Had to Swallow It

In the pitch-black coffin, the only sound was Chiang Ye's breathing.

Sweat drenched his back from nerves; the cramped space didn't even allow him to turn over.

His heavy breaths, the clammy sweat, and the relentless thudding of soil against the coffin's sides battered Chiang Ye's nerves and pushed him to his limits.

Eventually, Chiang Ye reached his breaking point.

Fear had taken hold