Brother Long's leather shoes stepped on the back of Ye Feng's hand. The soles of the shoes grinded back and forth on the rough cement floor.
Ye Feng's finger bones made a teeth-searing crunching sound.
"Three million. If you can't get it out before sunset today, this hand will stay here."
Brother Long blew out a thick white smoke ring. Soot flew into the air and fell on Ye Feng's sweaty hair.
Four bald men gathered around. Each one held a rusty machete in his hand. There were dark red stains on the back of the knife.
Ye Feng lay on the gravel-filled ground. Rough stones scratched his cheeks, and blood mixed with mud smeared on his chin.
The old man is still in the intensive care unit of the city hospital with tubes inserted. The daily cost of a ventilator is a bottomless pit. If this hand is useless, even the lowest porter in Jade City will not be able to work, and the old man will have no choice but to extubate and wait to die. This gang of loan sharks used a truck of green-painted bricks to defraud the old man out of his savings, and now they're trying to force him into a dead end. If you hand over your hand, they will force you to sell your kidney next. Reasoning with them is a waste of words. These people only care about money and blood.
