"Brother Feng, I was wrong…"
"I don't want to die… I really don't want to die…"
Xu Haoran broke down again, crying like a child who had done something wrong.
Zou Feng said expressionlessly, "Then let me help you. Time to take off your hands."
He started to step forward as he spoke.
In truth, Zou Feng had already crushed the bones in both of Xu Haoran's wrists just now. They were already useless.
But he still clung to a sliver of unrealistic hope, sobbing, "Before, the Third Young Master… uh, no, that son of a bitch Yang Yanpeng said that you only need one hand for the Refinement…"
"So, Brother Feng, can you… leave me one hand?"
"I'm begging you! Just treat me like a fart and let me go…"
As he spoke, Xu Haoran rolled over, got on his knees, and kowtowed to Zou Feng repeatedly.
"One hand is enough?" Zou Feng was speechless. "You actually believed that!"
