The slave merchant Bamogo was already on his last breath.
Only surviving thanks to the Moonlight Spring.
Every two or three days, he was fed some rice soup porridge.
According to the Lord's standards, his Life Value always hovered at the brink of death.
Holding on for seven days was already a testament to this guy's strong physique.
In fact, Bamogo himself was not weak, comparable to a Tier Four Warrior of the Kingdom.
But the Eye of the Elf had numbers in their favor, and deliberately made it so that he had no chance to retaliate!
Saloyan poured a small bowl of silvery liquid from the Pottery Jars on the table.
He carried it over to Bamogo.
At this moment, Bamogo was naked on his upper body, his head hanging low.
His entire body was covered with whip marks of varying depths.
The blood seeping from the wounds had coagulated into thick black scabs, looking ghastly beyond compare.
