Heather and Forsythe had fought against each other before, and the blood-colored knife apparition had sapped her inner strength. She was already frail, and the pain of being whipped was too much for her fragile body.

Heather tried to fight the pain for a while, but her hands and feet were tied, and she could not move.

"Heather."

Forsythe's eyes flickered with ruthlessness. Without even the slightest hint of pity, he slowly walked forward and said, "I don't want to hurt you. I need to know the