Dual-wielding! 100x proficiency, I'll grind my way to godhood!

Chen Mo sat in the chair with his legs crossed.

The two knelt beside him, not daring to look at the screen, yet not daring not to look.

The progress bar moves forward step by step, like a countdown.

After the folder is unzipped, the first video pops up and starts playing automatically.

No one dared to look at the screen.

The sound alone, played aloud, is enough to make one feel nauseous.

Whitman's forehead was beaded with sweat, which trickled down his temples.

Coleman's fingers dug into the carpet, his knuckles tightening one by one.

The laughter in the video was instantly recognizable to everyone present.

Whitman reached for the laptop to close, but Ghost's gaze froze him in place.

The hand froze in mid-air, trembling uncontrollably, before slowly retracting.

Chen Mo took a drag of his cigarette, his heart filled with nothing but contempt.

"A governor and an attorney general. High-ranking officials, dressed in suits, looking all respectable."

"And what happens behind the scenes? Torture and cannibalism."

"Even animals wouldn't do something like this. You two are even worse than animals."

Whitman's head hung even lower, and the back of her shirt was already soaked with sweat, clinging tightly to her body.

Both of them knew one thing.

This matter absolutely cannot be admitted.

If you admit it, your last chance of survival is gone.

Coleman spoke first:

"Mr. Chen, listen to me, things aren't as you think. In this position, if you don't do certain things, you'll be replaced. I have no other choice."

As he spoke, his eyes darted around, and a bead of sweat rolled down his nose.

As he spoke, he pushed Whitman forward.

Coleman continued:

"He was the one who came up with many of the ideas, and we also have connections in Washington. Mr. Chen, we can handle anything you need."

Whitman no longer had time to calculate.

He was in tears, repeating only one sentence over and over again.

Whitman cried and said:

"We're willing to compensate you. We'll give you whatever you want. My farm, my winery, you can have them all."

The two knelt and moved forward.

Chen Mo raised his foot in disgust and kicked the two of them away.

The two rolled around twice, then quickly knelt down again, not daring to change their posture.

Chen Mo flicked his cigarette ash and gestured with his chin toward the computer:

"Did you recognize it? Those are your own voices."

"They had a lot of fun, it didn't feel like they were forced to."

The two stammered, unable to exchange a single word.

Chen Mo shook his head, too lazy to look at them anymore, and turned to ask Naga:

"Naga, how many methods of torture do you know? Which one do you think would be suitable for them?"

The two men turned pale and scrambled back to their knees at Chen Mo's feet, begging for mercy.

Chen Mo ignored him.

Naga rolled up his sleeves and spoke in a cold voice:

"Before I started this line of work, I learned a lot. One method involves chopping off the fingers one joint at a time, while staying fully conscious throughout the process."

"There's another way: make a small incision and let the blood drain out slowly on its own; a person can survive for three days."

Naga thought for a moment and then added:

"There's another method using pliers, starting from the fingernail... But that's a bit dirty, so I usually don't use it."

Naga looked the two up and down and came to a conclusion:

"Neither of these two with their delicate skin could possibly handle it."

The two were utterly terrified.

Whitman's teeth started chattering and grinding.

Coleman stared intently at Naga's hands, as if those hands were already upon him.

They had never even heard of these methods.

This must never happen to me.

The two kowtowed repeatedly.

"We were wrong! We admit our mistake! We'll do anything you want!"

The sound of kowtows echoed one after another, striking the floor.

The two people who were acting all respectable just a moment ago now don't care about anything else.

Whitman's forehead quickly became red and swollen, and Coleman's voice became hoarse from shouting.

Chen Mo smiled:

"Anything is acceptable? Remember that."

He stood up and looked down at the two men.

"Killing you all directly would be too cheap."

"Those people behind you, those who played with you, will all have to come down and keep up with you one by one."

The two were stunned, with a bad feeling about them.

Chen Mo smiled and stated the conditions:

"Fine, I'll give you a way out."

"If you confess your crimes live in front of the whole world, I might spare your lives."

"You must expose everyone you know, not one of them."

The two were stunned.

Let them confess what they've done in front of the whole world.

This is meant to kill them.

No, this is worse than death.

The ghost smiled slightly and spoke at the opportune moment:

"Boss, your punishment is quite sophisticated. Killing them only causes a moment of pain. This is different; they have to live with the world's condemnation, every day is torture."

Naga curled his lip:

"If you ask me, they got off too easily."

The two men looked extremely pale, kneeling there, caught in a dilemma.

Confessing your guilt live on air is tantamount to nailing yourself to the pillar of shame.

I might be assassinated by those people afterward...

But if he didn't agree... Whitman glanced at Naga, who was smiling at him.

Chen Mo turned around and looked at the cleaned-up area without looking back:

"It seems you still prefer the tortures of the Naga."

The two of them trembled.

I can't worry about that anymore!

If they don't agree, they'll fall into the hands of the Naga right now.

A chill ran down my spine and straight to my head.

Whitman shouted it out first:

"We promise! We'll broadcast it live, we confess!"

Coleman nodded in agreement, like a chick pecking at rice.

The two of them collapsed on the ground, panting heavily, as if they had been pulled out of the water.

They escaped a fatal blow, yet no one showed the slightest hint of joy on their faces.

Chen Mo instructed the ghost:

"Arrange a professional location with the best equipment. It's a global live stream, so the footage needs to be crystal clear."

Ghost bows:

"Don't worry, boss. I guarantee they'll maintain a very respectable image in front of the whole world."

As he spoke, he reached out and gently brushed the dust off Whitman's suit, as if he were tending to an exhibit.

The group prepared to leave.

At that very moment, the entire California police system was mobilized.

The state government office was the first to notice something was wrong.

The governor had three meetings that afternoon, and he didn't show up for any of them.

The secretary called, but the phone was off.

Upon further investigation, the Attorney General was found to be in the same situation.

The governor and the attorney general both going missing is a major event.

The police first checked the two men's phone records.

The entire afternoon was filled with unusual instructions: release from custody, signing release orders, each one more urgent than the last.

Further investigation into the funds is needed.

The emergency fundraising of tens of billions of US dollars has even alarmed financial regulators.

After analyzing the data from multiple perspectives, a conclusion was quickly reached.

These two people are very likely to have been kidnapped or abducted.

Ultimately, all the clues led to one address: a private golf club.

Outside the stadium, sirens blared from afar, drawing in from all directions.

SWAT armored vehicles blocked the stadium gates, and snipers took up high ground.

On the radio, the dispatcher's voice repeated over and over again, confirming that the governor was inside.

The sound of helicopter rotors pressed down on us from above.

The ghost answered a phone call, walked to Chen Mo's side, and bowed:

"Boss, we're surrounded by the police."

Chen Mo smiled.

"Surround me?"