Li Wenlong and Mi Hui had never undergone professional training; they were merely intellectuals, exploited by others to stand out.
Faced with this tense situation, they naturally felt fear. But seeing Xiang Yu and the others remain so calm, the two gradually relaxed. It's just death—what was there to fear? They had already prepared themselves for it.
Mi Hui silently hoped Xiang Yu would kill them right then and there. Death was acceptable; returning to that hell was not.
Xiang Yu held a dagger in his hand. Of course, he wasn't about to kill them. His dagger only ended the lives of those who truly deserved it.
"Xiang Yu, I'm begging you—kill me now. I'm not afraid to die," Mi Hui pleaded earnestly, looking at Xiang Yu.
Xiang Yu's gaze swept over the crowd of men dressed in white, each clutching a submachine gun. He knew it was impossible for his group to break out.
"Brother Yu, let's do it. Killing one is worth it; killing two is a profit," Tie Zhuzi said with a hearty laugh.
