His voice trailed off.
Ming Ci struggled violently.
Disabling his right hand, what difference did it make from killing him?!
How could Ming Ci alone possibly be a match for the well-trained men in black suits, with his head pressed firmly to the ground and his right hand twisted behind his back and forcefully pulled in front of his eyes!
During the execution, they wanted Ming Ci to watch with his own eyes... how his right hand's bones were shattered one by one!
How utterly cruel.
But for these scions who seemed to live such boring lives that they could only wait for death, it counted as a form of pleasure.
A thrill built on the foundation of cruel bloodshed.
Young Master Li cradled a beautiful model in the crook of his arm, a lit cigarette between his fingers, and gave a one-word command:
"Smash."
Not "chop."
In gangster slang, to disable a hand could mean chopping off the entire hand along with the flesh, from the wrist.
