Yue Zheng sat ramrod straight, more upright than he had ever been in class at school.
It was not that he wanted to sit this way. The metal ring around his neck continuously released a weak current that paralyzed his central nervous system, leaving him without the slightest strength in his body. Whatever position others arranged him into was the position he remained in.
He felt more like a patient with high-level paralysis, placed in a wheelchair alongside the other two unfortunate brothers from C Group. Controlled by the Black Suits behind and beside them, they passed through a corridor and entered this unfamiliar room.
Then he saw the people from Groups A and B. He saw that they, too, appeared paralyzed, and he saw the tubes extending from their bodies, along with the blood flowing through them.
Whimpering sounded by his ears, coming from his two fellow sufferers—perhaps from himself as well.
Events did not bend to Yue Zheng's will.
The people from Groups A and B ahead of them had it even a little better than they did. At least they had sofas and carpeted floors to lie on. This later batch could only sit in Wheelchairs against the wall, shoulder to shoulder, their hands and feet trembling as they awaited their doom.
Yue Zheng had no idea what was going on.
At first, he had not known who had ordered these expressionless Black Suits to suddenly attack them, take down Old Liu, strip them of their communication devices, and bring him here separately.
Now that he had entered this suite and seen that suspended, faintly writhing lump of flesh; the tubes, Blood Providers, and equipment; and the middle-aged white man half-reclining on the bed and receiving a transfusion...
The previous string of questions had been answered.
But