"Keep talking, what happened after that?" Sylvan Cheney's deep gaze fell on his face.
The middle-aged man was not good at lying. Sylvan Cheney didn't need to do anything to him; he was already overwhelmed and confessed everything truthfully.
"We were honest fishermen. Seeing that he was still alive, we didn't fish anymore and immediately set out to send him to the clinic on shore. Luckily, we weren't far from the shore, and when we got him to the clinic, he was still alive, still breathing. His face was covered in blood, his clothes were soaked in blood, and my daughter was terrified."
"Then?" Sylvan Cheney looked into his eyes.
