After a piercing scream, the burly prisoner clutched his severed arm tightly, stumbling backward.
His voice stammered from pain: "Wh...why? Your stun baton...would...would explode?"
Feng Mu's gaze was deep and complex, his voice carrying an inexplicable undertone: "Yes, I really want to know, why exactly is that?"
He sighed softly, with a trace of helplessness and depth in his tone:
"If you hadn't touched my stun baton without permission, maybe in a critical moment, I would have pulled it out myself. Then I might have been the one to lose half an arm from the explosion."
The burly prisoner stared at Feng Mu, regret and remorse hatching like countless snake eggs in his chest, then fervently gnawing at his soul.
He hated it, hated why he had to touch someone else's things.
Clearly, his mother had taught him this lesson since he was a child!
