In the pitch-black darkness, the man's screams and the relentless sound of blows had been going on for quite some time.
The man on the ground was gasping for breath, barely able to scream anymore. It wouldn't be long before he was completely spent.
His face was so bruised and swollen that it was unrecognizable. Even the person delivering the blows couldn't help but feel a twinge of pity.
"Miss Alice, should we keep going? If this continues, he's going to die."
In the world of the mob, death wasn't something to be feared. Especially for those who had climbed to the top—everyone had blood on their hands.
What they were really worried about was Miss Alice's mood. They figured she'd vented enough by now and would call it off, as she usually did.
But this time, the girl was unusually resolute.
"Oh, keep going."
Her response was cold and emotionless. Sitting on a nearby chair, she propped her face up with her hand.