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The God of Underworld - Chapter 164 - 9
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... ure knelt.
Orpheus—once a man of beauty and song, a poet who could make trees sway and rivers halt—was now but a shadow of his former self.
His skin clung to his bones like parchment stretched too thin, his lips cracked, his hair matted and unwashed.
For three hundred and thirty-three days, he had remained unmoving, head bowed, hands pressed against the ground in prayer.
Neither food nor water had touched him.
One can see his body was failing, but his will ...
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