"I'm sorry, kid." Zhao Xin's voice was choked with emotion, and she couldn't bear to look at him, just tilting her head back and locking him in place with tense limbs in silence, "I want to help you... but I really can't find a reason, you're just too despicable... If you don't die, I can't think of anyone else who should..."
"How can you... why are you turning your elbow out like that..." Hu Zirui simply dropped the crowbar and started choking Zhao Xin's arm.
"Stop talking... You'll pass out soon, and I'll make it quick for you," Zhao Xin said as she closed her eyes in agony.
Li Qingming couldn't help but feel disgust; he hated such dialogues and even more the gentle locking technique.
He stepped forward, dragging the baseball bat, ready to put an end to it quickly.
But a white-coated arm stopped him.
"Don't, I'm enjoying this."
