Rebirth of a Mercenary: The Ace Mercenary Forced to Be the Beloved of the Group

The next day, Bai Ye was dragged into the courtyard.

His wrists were untied and replaced with new iron chains, one end of which was locked to his hands, and the other end was fixed to the rusty iron post in the center of the yard.

His abdomen was wrapped with the gauze that had been changed the night before, but the gauze had been soaked with blood and turned dark brown. It clung to his skin, rising and falling slightly with his breathing. The edges were hardened from dryness, and each breath pulled at the flesh around the wound.

When his wrists, which had been suspended all night, were finally lowered, the muscles in his arms ached to the extreme, as if they had been twisted from the outside. The chains hung at his sides, making a soft, metallic clanging sound.

Viper sat on a chair under the sunshade in the courtyard, holding a cup of tea. He tilted his head to the side, and his attendant, who was standing to the side, stepped forward, holding a water-soaked cowhide whip.

"Let's begin."

When the first whip fell, Bai Ye's body tensed up abruptly.

The whip was made of water-soaked cowhide, and the sound of it striking flesh was dull and loud, like a wet cloth being slammed against a wall.

The whip tip curled at the moment it touched his skin, leaving a long, deep gash like a snake's tail. Blood seeped from the broken skin, trickling down his spine, gathering into a thin red line on the old wound on his side, dripping along the curve of his ribs onto the ground, spreading a small patch of dark color among the gravel.

Bai Ye gritted his teeth. He lowered his head, his gaze fixed on the dust on the ground illuminated by the morning light, his fingers gripping the iron chains that bound him.

Viper took a sip of tea, said nothing, and simply placed the teacup back on the small table beside him, the porcelain clinking together with a crisp, light sound.

The second lash landed on his left shoulder. The tip of the whip curled around the edge of his shoulder blade, tearing a new gash in his skin. Blood trickled down the curve of his arm, dripping onto his forearm, then sliding down his fingertips to the ground with a soft thud.

Bai Ye's shoulder twitched uncontrollably. He squeezed his eyes shut to suppress all sound, then opened them again.

"Lin Mo—oh no, Bai Ye," Viper's voice came from under the awning, "It's not too late for you to change your mind. Just nod, and I'll have someone bandage you, change your clothes, and bring you a bowl of hot soup. You won't have to suffer under the sun like this anymore. Why bother? You're only sixteen; what good will it do you to tough it out?"

Bai Ye didn't look up. His forehead pressed against the cold iron stake, his breathing shallow and rapid, the voice forced from his throat hoarse but firm: "...You're dreaming."

The viper chuckled, showing no anger, but merely raised its chin at the man wielding the whip.

The third lash landed on his side. The tip of the whip curled below his ribs, tearing open a horizontal wound. Blood beads trickled down the contours of his abdominal muscles, mixing with the blood seeping from the edge of the gauze on his abdomen, spreading an irregular dark stain on his waistband.

"You're only sixteen." The viper slowly circled White Night halfway around. "You've come all this way to die for them. Do you think it's worth it? You're just a card in their hand. When the card is gone, they'll just replace it with a new one."

Bai Ye remained silent.

The fourth lash. The fifth lash. The sixth lash. Each lash landed in a different spot—his back, shoulders, sides, arms—like a meticulously designed exhibition, leaving new scars on every corner of his body.

The whip whistled through the air as it fell, tearing a new gash in his flesh with each blow. Blood trickled down his back, pooling on the gravel ground in a small, damp patch.

Bai Ye's consciousness rose and fell repeatedly in pain, but every time it was about to break, he would bite his tongue hard with his teeth, using the new stinging pain to pull himself back.

His mouth was filled with the taste of blood, his tongue was bitten and bleeding, and every swallow was excruciatingly painful, but he wouldn't allow himself to lose consciousness at this moment.

He didn't want Viper to see him fall. He didn't want Viper to think he couldn't hold on any longer. As long as he was standing, as long as his eyes were open, Viper hadn't won.

When the tenth lash came down, his knees finally buckled.

His body slid down the iron stake, the iron chain on his wrist was stretched straight, his entire arm was stretched into a straight line, and his knuckles were embedded in the gaps of the chain, turning white from excessive force.

His forehead pressed against the cold iron post, his breathing shallow and rapid, the gasps from deep in his throat particularly clear in the courtyard.

His back was covered in welts, layer upon layer, covering his entire spine. Blood trickled down his knees, pooling into a small, dark, damp patch on the gravel ground. His arms trembled slightly, and the muscles in his shoulders spasmed uncontrollably.

Viper put down his teacup, stood up, and walked over to him. He crouched down, reached out, and pinched Bai Ye's chin, lifting his face off the iron post.

Bai Ye's face was as pale as paper, his forehead covered in cold sweat, his lips were bitten raw, and blood scabbed over half his face, with a trace of blood still clinging to the corner of his mouth. But his eyes were still open, his pupils reflecting the viper's face, his gaze as cold as if it had been quenched with ice.

The viper looked at him, silent for a moment: "How much longer can you hold on? You're covered in wounds. You've lost too much blood; you won't make it through the night. Just nod, and I'll have someone stop the bleeding, apply medicine, change you into clean clothes, and let you sleep in a real bed. Why are you torturing yourself?"

Bai Ye opened his mouth.

His voice was hoarse to the extreme, like a piece of iron rubbed with sandpaper, almost inaudible, but he still managed to squeeze out every word from his throat: "...You can try."

Viper released his jaw, stood up, and looked down at the body that was almost at its limit.

He stood there for a few seconds, then said nothing more, simply turning and walking towards the awning. After taking two steps, he paused again, turning his head to look at Bai Ye's lowered head.

"Stop the bleeding. Don't let him die. Continue tomorrow."

After saying this, he left, his footsteps fading into the distance on the gravel ground of the courtyard, disappearing at the end of the corridor. His attendant stepped forward, tossed a roll of gauze at Bai Ye's feet, and then retreated to a corner.

Bai Ye was chained to an iron stake, his body pressed against the cold metal, his forehead against the rusty metal surface. His breathing was shallow and slow, as if he were slowly walking towards some end.

In the instant before his consciousness completely faded, the last thing that appeared in his mind was a gray-haired figure from behind—the one who turned around and introduced himself to him on the first day of basic training, sunlight falling on his shoulders, and he smiled and said "Xuanxiao"—then the image shattered into white light fragments, and darkness surged in from all directions.