Watson threw himself over and knelt at Lucius' feet. "Mr. White, for the sake of the old days, please spare me."
Lucius glanced at him. "As Caelus' cousin, strictly speaking, you should be calling me uncle."
Watson looked both flattered and terrified. "I wouldn't dare to presume any kinship with you, Mr. White."
Their statuses were worlds apart. In front of the illustrious Lucius White, Watson felt unworthy to be even mentioned in the same breath as him.
Lucius asked, "How did the punishment feel?"
Terror filled Watson's eyes. The methods in the punishment hall were endless. They didn't kill, but they made living feel worse than death.
"I will never forget it for the rest of my life," Watson stammered.
He had never expected that the once pampered Lucius to grow into someone like this under the pressure of time.
Lucius asked, "Do you want more?"
Watson shook his head violently. "Please have mercy, Mr. White."
If they kept going, he would probably die.
Lucius sat in a chair Silas had brought over. Then, he folded his legs and looked down at Watson.
"I hate the smell of blood. That metallic and foul scent disgusts me. And having those cold instruments of torture used on my relatives? To be honest, seeing you suffer makes me feel bad, too."
He extended his hand, and Silas immediately handed him the blood-stained whip.



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