The tyrannical father was so intimidated when his own daughter was found during the raid.

As a drug addict from southern Xinjiang, Ye Honglian has a lot of strange and unusual gadgets in her possession.

Sometimes, simple killing isn't fun.

The highest level of this craft is to make people wish they were dead.

The bamboo tube was tilted slightly.

No visible powder was released, nor was there any pungent odor.

There are only tens of thousands of tiny flea worms, so small that even sunlight cannot illuminate them.

They drifted lightly off the bamboo tubes, carried by the gentle breeze blowing from above the city wall towards the front lines.

Like an invisible veil, it fell down onto the chaotic scene below.

Outside the city gate.

Five thousand Great Yan Xuanjia Iron Cavalrymen were still struggling.

They were like a group of heavy, metal-shelled turtles that had been overturned on a giant ice rink.

The heavy steel armor became the biggest obstacle to their getting up.

With just a little effort, your hands and feet will slide uncontrollably several meters away.

Then it crashed heavily into the comrade next to it, making a deafening clang of metal clashing.

The Iron Cavalry Commander was still roaring in despair.

He desperately tried to find even the slightest foothold by digging his hands into the ground with his gloved hands.

But to his dismay, he discovered that the transparent liquid was unbelievably slippery.

Just then, the first batch of flea worms that drifted down with the wind silently landed on them.

Although these Gu worms are small, they are incredibly resilient and possess an extremely strong instinct for scheming.

As soon as they landed on the cold steel armor, they immediately began searching for warm flesh and blood.

The Xuanjia Iron Cavalry's defenses were indeed impenetrable.

Ordinary swords and knives cannot penetrate it, and poisonous gas cannot seep in over a large area.

But these flea worms are really too microscopic.

They followed the tiny seams at the joints of the armor and the vents on the helmet visor used for breathing.

Like countless omnipresent ghosts, they frantically burrowed inside.

The Iron Cavalry Commander was pacing around on the ground, cursing and swearing.

Suddenly, he felt a slight tingling sensation on the back of his neck.

At first, he didn't pay any attention.

After all, he had taken a hard fall while wearing heavy armor weighing over 100 pounds, and now he feels uncomfortable all over his body.

But only three breaths had passed.

That slight tingling sensation was like a spark falling into a haystack, exploding at an alarming speed!

itch!

An intense, bone-deep itch, like a thousand ants gnawing at your heart!

It felt like millions of barbed insects were frantically gnawing at the surface of my skin.

Then, following the pores, it burrowed into the muscle texture and into the bone crevices!

"hiss!"

The commander gasped and reached out to scratch his neck.

However, as soon as he raised his hand, he touched the cold, hard steel neck guard.

Through the thick iron armor, he couldn't touch his own skin at all!

Now, he was completely panicked.

The unbearable itching was not relieved by his movements.

Instead, it spread to his entire body in an even more frenzied manner, like a flood bursting its banks.

Chest, back, thighs, soles of feet...

Every inch of skin, every nerve, is screaming in frantic protest.

"Ugh! It itches so much! It's killing me with that itch!"

The commander finally couldn't bear it any longer and let out a piercing scream from inside his sealed helmet.

The five thousand muscular men, who were initially furious because of the slip, were now all in a state of frenzy.

The flea worm has fully manifested.

Everyone experienced that terrifying feeling of being worse than dead.

Normally, they could simply take off their armor and scratch themselves vigorously.

But now, they are wearing heavy steel armor weighing over 100 pounds, which is extremely cumbersome to put on and take off!

This was the absolute defense they were once so proud of, the one that was impervious to swords and spears.

At this moment, it has become a torture device that locks them tightly inside!

It turned into a steel cage where one could suffer!

"Help! Help me get my nail clippers off! I need to scratch them!"

"It itches! My back is so itchy, someone help me!"

The soldiers screamed in despair, their voices trembling with sobs.

They desperately scratched their bodies with their gloved hands.

But apart from producing a series of ear-piercing metallic scraping sounds on the surface of the armor, it was of no use at all.

Even scratching blood from the inside of the armor with his fingernails couldn't relieve the excruciating itch that went deep into his bones.

Since you can't scratch it with your hands, you'll have to rely on external force.

Driven by their survival instincts and the intense itching, these elite warriors of the Great Yan Kingdom began to writhe their bodies wildly on the ground.

He tried to relieve the itching through the armor by rubbing his body violently against the ground.

If it were a regular surface, it might have some effect.

But the bed they were on was so slippery!

The horrific and grotesque scenes unfolded before the cult's ranks.

One person rolled on the ground in an attempt to rub against someone's back.

Because the ground was too slippery, he spun around like a bowling ball and slid more than ten meters away.

Another cavalryman tried to rub his thigh against the ground.

He pushed off with both legs and slid outwards.

With a "whoosh" sound.

A standard split.

The excruciating pain in my groin was mixed with an intense itching all over my body.

The soldier let out a bloodcurdling scream, like a pig being slaughtered.

Five thousand people were writhing wildly on the lubricant.

Some people, like fatheaded fish out of water, bounce wildly up and down on the ground, trying to relieve the itch with vibration.

Some people use both hands and feet to paddle rapidly across the water.

His body just kept spinning in place, performing some unknown mechanical street dance.

Some people bumped into each other and simply twisted themselves into a knot like a pretzel, trying to use their comrades' armor to rub against each other.

Weapons were scattered everywhere.

The warhorse, itching to the touch, rolled around on the ground and neighed repeatedly.

The entire battlefield had been completely transformed into a large-scale madhouse.

Various bizarre twisting postures and various sliding movements that push the limits of human physiology.

Accompanied by a series of heart-wrenching screams.

This scene is a hundred times more grotesque than the actual eighteen levels of hell.

It's not very harmful.

At most, it might be a muscle strain or cramps from doing the splits.

But the insult was so strong it was off the charts!

The believers on the city wall were completely dumbfounded.

Their weapons had long since fallen onto the stone slab.

The followers' minds completely shut down.

One of the hall masters pinched his thigh hard to make sure he wasn't dreaming.

He swallowed hard and turned to look at Ye Honglian and Su Yaoyao, who were standing by the battlements.

The fear in his eyes had vanished, replaced by deep awe and a hint of sympathy.

You should never mess with this mother and daughter.

This kind of insidious and cruel method of inflicting suffering is simply inhumane.

Below the city wall.

The Iron Cavalry Commander has completely collapsed.

He spun wildly on the ground like a turtle lying on its back.

Tears mixed with snot, smearing his face inside his faceplate.

He spun around in circles, shouting desperately.

"Kill me! Give me a stab! Please, just give me a stab!"

The commander of the mighty, invincible vanguard of the Great Yan Dynasty now only seeks a swift death.

The elite army of the Great Yan Kingdom not only suffered a complete collapse in formation, but its psychological defenses were also utterly crushed.

They are currently incapable of fighting; they are merely a group of lambs trapped in armor, itching and questioning their very existence.

Just as this earth-shattering scream and roar intertwined.

A muffled "boom" was heard.

The heavy wooden door of the main altar of the cult was slowly pulled open from the inside.

A tall, slender figure in white walked out unhurriedly, bathed in the morning light.

Su Jin was spotless.

He was dragging a thick, long bundle of carbon nanotube hemp rope in his hand.

Su Jin looked down at the heavily armored cavalrymen rolling on the ground, doing splits, and convulsing.

Those beautiful eyes gleamed with the gleeful light of a capitalist seeing free韭菜 (a metaphor for exploiting people).

He smiled and twirled the thick hemp rope in his hand, his tone so gentle it sent chills down your spine.

"We can't waste such a large pool of excellent labor."