Our Own People
Editor: Nyoi-Bo Studio
When the chef heard Han Sen's question, she stared at him but did not speak a word.
With the serrated edge of the horn, Han Sen dug a little deeper into her throat. The shredded skin of her neck began to ooze droplets of blood, which rolled down to her shoulders.
"Don't try my patience!" Han Sen feigned anger and impatience for any resistance she might give.
"Then kill me, if that is what you wish." The chef spoke with a chilling tone, without a single hint of her words being a bluff. She was not afraid of dying in the least.
Of course, Han Sen still hoped to extract information; he wanted whatever she might have known about Han Jinzhi. Killing her was the last thing he wished to do, for this very reason, and this reason alone.