Desperate people, accept the seed of my soul!

"How could I let you die so easily?"

An angry voice rang out from the side.

Han Dongcheng struggled to turn his eyes and saw two people standing outside the car.

Standing next to the passenger seat was Liu Zhen, a wisp of eerie blue electricity dancing on his fingertips as he looked at him.

Those deep, dark eyes now churned with a fire that had been suppressed for too long, like a volcano about to erupt.

Another man stood outside the driver's side door, wearing black-rimmed glasses and a dark gray trench coat with the collar turned up, obscuring half his face.

He was squatting on the ground, his palms pressed against the cold cement floor. The vines on the ground swayed gently with his movements, as if they had come to life.

It is Meng Zhaowen.

Han Dongcheng's mind went blank with a "buzz".

He had seen too many storms in his life, the deceit and treachery in the business world, the bloody transactions between the underworld and the legitimate world, and even people being beaten to death in front of him.

But he had never seen such a bizarre scene before—plants that could move, could listen to human speech, could crawl out of the concrete and entangle a two-ton bulletproof car, and could tie people to seats like ropes.

He finally understood why Jiang Jianping and the thirteen security guards couldn't even send out a distress signal.

Faced with a force that is completely outside the realm of common sense, no matter how many people there are or how good the equipment is, they are nothing more than cannon fodder.

"You were the one who facilitated the Longteng Power project."

Liu Zhen walked over, squatted down in front of him, and spoke in a voice as cold as ice.

Where were you the day the brake cables on my wife's and kids' car were cut?

Han Dongcheng's lips trembled. He wanted to defend himself, to shift all the blame onto Zhao Hongtu, and to kneel down and beg for his life. He had plenty of money; he could give them all his wealth, as long as he could live.

But as soon as he opened his mouth, a cold hand grabbed his neck and pressed his thumb hard against his carotid artery.

A pale blue arc of electricity leaped from Liu Zhen's fingertips. It wasn't the kind of electricity that could kill instantly, but rather it was like countless red-hot needles that pierced his skin and flesh, traveling along his nerves. Wherever it passed, it felt like being roasted on a fire.

"ah--!!!"

Han Dongcheng let out a piercing scream, his body convulsing violently as the vines tightened their grip, making it impossible for him to even struggle.

The electric current stimulated every nerve in his body, causing him so much pain that he wished he could faint immediately. Yet, his consciousness remained terrifyingly clear, and every bit of pain was amplified several times over, clearly transmitted into his brain.

"I'm asking you a question."

Liu Zhen's voice was right next to him, and the fire in his eyes was almost bursting out.

He had waited for this day for far too long. Ever since the day his wife and children were buried, ever since he woke up on the run and couldn't feel any warmth, ever since he first saw the electric arcs dancing on his fingertips, he had imagined this scene countless times.

He wanted to make these people pay the price, to make them taste the suffering he had endured, and the pain of losing everything.

The current increased a few points.

Han Dongcheng's eyes rolled back, and saliva mixed with blood dripped from the corner of his mouth, soaking his shirt.

He couldn't hold back any longer, and broken syllables escaped his throat: "I...I said...I was the one who made the connection...but I wasn't the one who killed...it was Zhao Hongtu...they wanted to do a project...I just...just acted as a bridge..."

Liu Zhen released his grip, letting him gasp for breath like a fish thrown ashore.

Meng Zhaowen then walked over and squatted down on his other side.

His movements were slow and gentle, as if he were examining a piece of trash that should have been destroyed long ago.

His fingers twitched slightly, and a thin vine, as thin as a hair, slipped in from outside the car door and silently wrapped around Han Dongcheng's little finger.

"ah--!!!"

Another scream rang out.

The little finger was severed, twisted at an odd angle, and blood gushed out, splattering onto the steering wheel in a horrifying sight.

"My brother's name is Meng Zhaohui." Meng Zhaowen's voice was calm, but every word was like a poisoned ice pick, piercing into Han Dongcheng's bones. "Seven years ago, you handed a list to Song Mingzhang. My brother's name was on it."

He pressed his hand lightly against the ground again.

The second vine wrapped around Han Dongcheng's ring finger.

Tighten.

A crisp "snap" sounded.

My ring finger was also broken.

"You compiled that list." Meng Zhaowen pushed up his glasses, the lenses reflecting the cold white light of the garage, concealing the surging hatred in his eyes. "You provided those people's addresses, whereabouts, and family situations. The alley my brother took that night while working overtime was something you deliberately revealed to Song Mingzhang."

Han Dongcheng was in so much pain that he almost fainted. Cold sweat soaked his entire shirt. He shook his head desperately, trying to deny it, trying to say that Song Mingzhang forced him, that he was just following orders, and that he had no choice in the matter.

But the vines had already wrapped around his middle finger.

"I investigated for seven years." Meng Zhaowen's voice trembled slightly, a manifestation of suppressed hatred seeping from her very bones. "For seven years, the first thing I thought of every day when I woke up was your faces. Later, I was sent to a mental hospital and given sedatives for three months. I can't remember many things, I even forgot what my brother's smile looked like. But that doesn't matter—"

The vines suddenly tightened.

"It's enough that I remember your name."

The middle finger broke off instantly.

Han Dongcheng opened his mouth as wide as he could, but no sound came out, only hoarse panting.

He was in so much pain that his whole body convulsed, and his vision went black in waves. The fear of death overwhelmed him like a tidal wave.

He had never regretted it so much before, regretting why he had accepted that list, regretting why he had gotten involved in those dirty affairs, and regretting why he hadn't torn those two monsters to pieces sooner.

But it's too late to say anything now.

Liu Zhen watched as Meng Zhaowen stopped what she was doing before speaking again: "Where is Song Mingzhang?"

Han Dongcheng's body was still convulsing uncontrollably, and bloody saliva kept gushing from his mouth.

He knew he was going to die today, but he didn't want to die in such pain, he didn't want to be tortured to death little by little.

With his last bit of strength, he raised his hand, which still had two intact fingers, and pointed shakily toward the garage exit.

"Zhao... Zhaoming City... Yunyin Manor... Every Wednesday night... He was there... meeting with Wang Hongyuan... Everything was planned by him and Wang Hongyuan... I was just a gofer... I was wrong... I'll give you money... I'll give you all my money... Please... spare my life..."

His voice was broken and intermittent, each word accompanied by excruciating pain from his severed finger. Tears and snot mingled together, making him look utterly pathetic.

Liu Zhen and Meng Zhaowen exchanged a glance, both seeing confirmation in each other's eyes.

enough.

We got the address, and we also confirmed the name of our next enemy.