"Let me out, I don't want to die, please let me out."
The one crying was a man in his early twenties. His skin color was normal, only a little green, and his eyes didn't turn red.
He grabbed the railing and shouted nonstop.
black-clothed men lashed out with his whip, cursing him, "If you continue shouting, I'll chop you into pieces."
"Boss, this person has been refining for so long, he doesn't seem to be taking much medicine. His consciousness has always been very clear."
A black-clothed men beside him pointed at the man and asked.
"Just wait two more days. If that still doesn't work, we'll kill him."
"Yes."
As Feng Qingying was listening carefully to see if he could hear any useful clues, the man who was called Boss suddenly shouted at them in dissatisfaction.
"Why are you two still standing there? Why aren't you adding materials? How are you doing?"
"Yes, boss."