Greg Jensen looked at the once high and mighty young master of Jamae City, now resembling a little dog begging for scraps, and suddenly felt a bit sick of it.
The thrill of avenging a great wrong also became tasteless.
"Enough, I'll grant you a quick end."
Before he finished speaking, Greg Jensen had already lifted his finger and gently drew it across Ethan Locke's neck, releasing a torrent of blood that dyed the surrounding grass red.
"Hehe..."
Ethan Locke's eyes stared blankly, his hands clutching his neck, mouth agape, desperately gasping for air.
But, his complexion still turned steadily paler, then from white to blue.
Before long, he collapsed with a thud, lying on the ground, no longer making a sound.
Greg Jensen glanced at him once more, sighed, and headed down the mountain.
After returning to the villa, he found it had been cleaned up by Jay Brent's men, and Lindsey Wolfe along with the second elder and other people had been invited to rest in the car.
