Cool shackles circle your wrists and ankle, the chains clinking whenever you move.

Qi Zhiyong's eyes are like silver orbs varnished with a layer of frost, and they peer down at your kneeling form with devilish amusement.

He leans forward from his reclining position on his illustrious throne, one hand propping up his chin.

"You've caused Weihong a great amount of trouble, but I have you now."

His voice dips into a self-satisfied hiss, a smirk playing on his lips.