Jack "Two-Finger" Zhao naturally noticed Ethan's gaze. He turned his head towards Serena He, catching the look of startled fear that flashed across her face.
Serena didn't hesitate. She turned and bolted for the door.
"Think you can run?"
Zhao grabbed her by the hair, yanking her back violently.
As she was pulled back, Serena snatched the pen from her collar and stabbed straight for Zhao's eye.
When the pen tip was mere centimeters from his pupil, Zhao caught her wrist in a viselike grip.
Now, with one hand tangled in her hair and the other clamping her wrist, Zhao's superior strength left Serena utterly helpless.
"Sent by Mr. Kun, huh?" Zhao licked his lips. "That old lecher sent a prime piece like you my way? What, fell out of favor?"
"Zhao, I'd be careful," Ethan spoke up. "She's Mr. Kun's daughter!"
"Oh?" A predatory gleam lit up Zhao's eyes as he looked Serena up and down. "Well, that changes things. Makes me reluctant to kill you outright. Kun's daughter... must be worth a pretty penny."
He forced Serena's head down onto the tool table and started browsing the instruments.
"This one will do nicely." He picked up a pair of pliers and pried open Serena's hand. "Look at these pretty fingers. If I mail one to Kun, you think he'd pay good money for the rest?"
Zhao laughed, a manic, unhinged sound.
Just as Serena had said, he was a sadist. He reveled in the torture.
Serena struggled futilely. She had some training, but it was useless against Zhao. All she could do was stare in terror, her beautiful eyes wide, as the pliers inched closer to her finger.
Remembering the scenes of Zhao pulling out people's fingers, her body trembled uncontrollably.
The pliers closed slowly around her finger and clamped down.
Serena screamed in pain.
"Ugh!"
Zhao, wearing a twisted smile, suddenly grunted, his actions halting. He spun around and threw a wild punch.
Even though Ethan had braced himself, the force of the blow sent a numbing shock through his arms.
Protruding from the small of Zhao's back was the sharp scalpel—the very one Zhao had intended to use on Ethan. Ethan had used it to free his bound hands.
"You little bastard! You're insane!" Zhao roared, swinging the pliers at Ethan's head.
Ethan grabbed a wooden chair from behind and swung it.
Zhao took the hit, the chair splintering against his body, and brought the pliers down hard on Ethan's arm.
Ethan felt like his arm was shattered.
"Serena, stop fucking staring! Move!" Ethan yelled.
Snapped back to reality, Serena gritted through the pain in her hand, grabbed a tool, and swung it at Zhao.
Zhao kicked her to the ground and turned his focus back to Ethan, hammering with the pliers.
Ethan protected his head with his arms, but Zhao's strength and speed were on another level compared to anyone he'd fought before.
"Motherfucker!"
Ethan saw red. He stopped guarding, took a hit from the pliers, and charged forward, tackling Zhao around the waist.
Zhao's face contorted. He drove a knee hard into Ethan's stomach. Ethan felt his guts churn, bile rising in his throat.
At the same time, Ethan's hand found the scalpel buried in Zhao's back. He gripped the handle, yanked it out, and stabbed it deep into Zhao's side.
"You little shit! I'll kill you!"
Zhao bellowed, raining blows down on Ethan with the pliers.
The two men became a whirlwind of brutal, desperate violence—one enduring the crushing pliers, the other enduring the stabbing blade. All technique was gone. It was just two madmen testing whose will to live was stronger.
"Zhao!"
A sharp cry cut through the chaos.
Serena, wielding a steel pipe, brought it down with all her might on Zhao's head.
Zhao's hands went limp. The pliers dropped lightly onto the back of Ethan's head before clattering to the floor. Zhao himself swayed unsteadily and crumpled to the ground.
Serena looked over and saw blood streaming from the back of Ethan's head, his eyes rolling back. Reacting quickly, she grabbed a basin of cold water and threw it over him.
Ethan jolted, gasping, his consciousness snapping back into focus.
"Quick! Cut off his finger! Now!" Ethan urged.
Serena moved swiftly, fighting down her revulsion. She picked up a cleaver and, with one decisive chop, severed Zhao's index finger. Blood splattered across her face, staining her striking features with gore.
Ethan pocketed the severed finger and felt the back of his own head. His hand came away warm and wet. He asked Serena, "You said seven guards on this floor. More upstairs. We can't go out the main way. Is there another exit?"
"The third basement level," Serena said. "But there are even more guards down there. There's a passage Zhao keeps for escaping if the police raid the place."
"Shit!" Ethan cursed. "Find a way to wake him up. We need to use him as a hostage to get out."
As he spoke, Ethan walked to the side, selected a heavy tool, and brought it down hard on Zhao's arm.
"What are you doing?" Serena asked.
"Breaking his arms. You think we can control him otherwise? It's us or him now!"
After breaking both of Zhao's arms and throwing another basin of water on him, Zhao finally began to stir.
The moment he woke, Zhao tried to lash out, only to find his arms screaming with pain, completely useless.
"Zhao, stop this fucking madness!" Ethan slapped him across the face. "I just want the money, not your life. But if you want to trade lives, fine by me. Just remember, yours is worth a hell of a lot more than mine!"
Rage burned in Zhao's eyes.
Ethan stood before him, face covered in blood, like a demon.
Zhao had just witnessed firsthand how crazy and reckless this young man was.
"Listen, Zhao. We're taking you with us as a ticket out. Think carefully. If you force me to stay here, we trade lives. If I die, I lose nothing. But if you die, your business, your women... they all belong to someone else."
Ethan hauled Zhao to his feet. If he weren't in such bad shape himself, he'd have broken Zhao's legs too.
Pressing the blade against Zhao's throat, Ethan commanded, "Let's go. Take us out through the third basement level!"
Ethan marched Zhao out of the collections room at knifepoint. A guard in the hallway saw them and immediately charged, alerting the others.
Within two minutes, the corridor was packed with Zhao's men.
"Tell them, Zhao!" Ethan pressed the knife harder, drawing a line of blood on Zhao's neck. "You don't want to die. I don't want to die either!"
"I don't fucking want to die!" Zhao spat a mouthful of blood. "But I can't swallow this insult, you understand?"
"If you want revenge, you need to heal first, right? No need to throw your life away now!" Ethan shoved Zhao forward. "All of you, get the fuck back! Anyone comes closer, I'll kill him!"
The surrounding guards didn't yield, edging forward, poised to swarm them.
"Kid, don't bluff me," Zhao sneered weakly. "You won't last much longer in that state. Just go ahead and kill me. Living like this... it's no way to live anyway."
"Go to hell!" Ethan snarled. He drove the knife deep into Zhao's shoulder, pulled it out, and pressed it back against his throat. "You want to play hardball? Fine! Tell them to back off! Or we trade lives right now!"
Zhao took a sharp, pained breath and glared at his men. "All of you, get the fuck back! You really want to watch me die?!"