Ding wiped his hands and threw the blood stained hander kerchief on the ground. His gaze landed on the lifeless body that sat limply on the bolted chair.
The body had severe burn wounds which made his figure have something like small holes, dug by hot needles. Blood continuously flowed down his broken limbs, as his head hang low making it seem like his neck was too weak to support it.
He walked out of the room and directly made his way to Zixin's office. Zixin sat behind his desk slowly taking a sip from his cup. When he heard the door close, he looked up," Ding."
"Sir."
"How'd it go?"
Ding," The man died."
Zixin's hand froze the tea cup just a few inches from his lips. Ding continued," The party will be held at..."
