Han Zhan tossed the plasma grenade into one of the men's hands, a playful grin dancing across his face. He slung his plasma gun over his shoulder, his eyes glinting with mischief. "Don't try anything stupid, and we will let you live," he warned, his voice steady
Suddenly, a figure descended from above, landing with a soft thud on the cold concrete. His presence was commanding, his aura more imposing than that of the other men. It was Han Xin.
Han Xin scanned the scene before him. The employees knelt on the ground, terror etched on their faces. Most were thin, their bodies gaunt as if starved. A few looked healthier, but all bore bruises, evidence of recent beatings.
His heart tightened as he noticed the prisoner collars around their necks. These devices were meant for the most dangerous criminals in military prisons. The Raunet family had supplied these collars, not for the worst of society, but to keep their employees from escaping. It was inhumane.
