"How much money do you want? I can give it all to you, just don't kill me..."
Morrison said with difficulty, his eyes filled with fear.
The middle-aged man shook his head, bent down, and gently patted Morrison's face, smiling, "What did I tell you yesterday? It's not money that I want."
His English was very fluent, indistinguishable from a native speaker.
Morrison grew even more panicked.
"I want your talent. Once you've recovered, come with me. The process will be painful, but I won't kill you. However, if you dare to try and escape now, I will not only kill you but also make you out to be a murderous lunatic. Once I get someone to write up a story and post it online, your family's company is finished."
The middle-aged man's smile was filled with a murderous aura, frightening Morrison to the point of trembling all over.
Talent...
Painful process...
Morrison instantly thought of all sorts of horrifying scenarios.
It's over...
I'm a dead man!
...
In the mall.
