At Chen Mo's call, the nearly hundred captives detained on the basement level supported one another as they made their way up to the first floor.
Among so many people, not a single one was unharmed. Nearly all of them bore injuries, differing only in severity.
Even the new captives brought in today had been "educated." Not one of them was completely uninjured.
Many wore blank expressions, or perhaps they had simply been bullied into numbness. Like people resigned to whatever came their way, they showed almost no reaction.
They walked when told to walk and stopped when told to stop. This was the state they had developed after being punished so many times.
Only a small handful gradually regained some light in their eyes. Judging by their clothes, appearances, and expressions, Chen Mo guessed they were new captives who had arrived this morning.
The later someone had been brought here, the faster they could recover. The longer they had been here, the more numb they became.
Even if these people were rescued and sent back, what they had experienced here would remain a lifelong source of pain. Some might even sink into it forever and never emerge, becoming psychologically damaged.
Chen Mo had actually heard some things about places like this before. Nearly ten thousand people were tricked or trafficked here every day.
Since many regions in Myanmar were relatively independent, with some even controlled by warlords, this place had become a breeding ground for scams.
In some cities here, industrial parks had actually become offices for scam syndicates. They set up companies, turned black into white, paid taxes, and even became representatives of local industrial development.
Otherwise, so many scam syndicates in Myanmar would not have been able to thrive so well and deceive so many people from