Provocation, a blatant provocation!
It had been a long time since anyone dared to speak to Jing Tashen in such a manner. He watched the man wearing a strange mask on the screen, who took out a black wooden box from his bosom.
With the man's figure reflected in his eyes, Jing Tashen opened the box. A thick stench of decay wafted out, and he, who suffered from severe mysophobia, extended his pale fingers to extract a doll made from old clothes from the wooden box.
Without any hesitation, Jing Tashen's sharp nails pierced through the doll's heart.
Cries arose within the command center. Security personnel averted their eyes as the rag-made doll, like a small baby, squirmed and cried, its short limbs flailing wildly. Then blood began to flow ceaselessly from its chest.
Jing Tashen clenched the doll tightly, forcing it to struggle painfully in his grasp until it completely turned into shadow and disappeared.
