With the verdict delivered, Du Ze was already limp, as if his soul had left him, turning into a pile of soft flesh.
Duan Feipeng's mental fortitude was even more fragile.
His legs were trembling, a foul-smelling liquid dripped from his pant legs, making him seem dumbfounded.
Several bailiffs tried to carry him away, but merely managed to pull Duan Feipeng upright...
"Bang!"
His legs went weak, like noodles, and he collapsed directly to the ground, gasping heavily, trying to get up but without any strength.
At the moment of the verdict.
The feeling of death descended upon him, and he felt what true fear and dread were.
Powerless... utterly powerless!
Just like those death row prisoners awaiting execution, kneeling with hoods on, not running or screaming, only powerless and limp bodies.
"He will definitely appeal."
