He lifted his wrist to check the time on his watch and said indifferently, "I don't have time to waste on you. If you don't speak up today, I'll come back in a week."
The man kneeling on the carpet was wearing black trousers, which, despite being stained with blood, only a faint dark color could be discerned now.
His hair was disheveled, there were purplish bruises on his face, and his lips were particularly dry, as if he hadn't drunk water in a long time, with white flakes peeling off, making him look extremely wretched.
Lengthy durations and the fear of the unknown are the two things that can most erode a person's spirit and mind.
"Mr. Mo..." the man on the floor raised his head, "You should already know who made me do this, right?"
"Of course."
"Then why do you insist on having me tell you personally?"
Mo Shiqian raised his hand, and the bodyguard dressed in black behind him approached, holding a DV camera aimed at the man on the ground.
