Chapter 2670: All I Ask... Is for a Way to Survive

"Keep talking, what happened after that?" Sylvan Cheney’s deep gaze fell on his face.

The middle-aged man was not good at lying. Sylvan Cheney didn’t need to do anything to him; he was already overwhelmed and confessed everything truthfully.

"We were honest fishermen. Seeing that he was still alive, we didn’t fish anymore and immediately set out to send him to the clinic on shore. Luckily, we weren’t far from the shore, and when we got him to the clinic, he was still alive, still breathing. His face was covered in blood, his clothes were soaked in blood, and my daughter was terrified."

"Then?" Sylvan Cheney looked into his eyes.

"The doctor at our clinic said the man was shot, hit rocks in the river, was badly hurt, and with the wounds soaked in river water, it was easy for them to become infected. The nearby major hospital was far away, and I had no way to get him there, so I begged the clinic’s doctor to do his best to treat him. Whether he could survive depended on his fate..."

The middle-aged man’s mind seemed to drift back to those scenes from last year, and he sighed deeply.

"Then, my daughter and I were in a hurry to collect the nets in the river, so we didn’t stay at the clinic, and we left."

Sylvan Cheney’s deep eyes stirred like a storm, waves surging like rolling sea waves.

"Keep talking."

The man shook his head, "We collected the nets, sold the fish, had a nap, and were so busy we forgot about it. On the third day, a woman came by and said the man we rescued was her husband. She gave us a large sum of money on the condition that... we keep this matter to ourselves, as if we knew nothing. I didn’t think about it much, took the money, and forgot it, didn’t tell anyone."

"Did you see what that man looked like?" Sylvan Cheney stared at him.

The middle-aged man shook his head at first, then after gazing at Sylvan Cheney for a few minutes, he nodded.

"Sir... he looked, looked quite a bit like you." The man stammered, not very sure, but the eyes and eyebrows were similar.

Sylvan Cheney was silent.

The room fell into indefinite silence, boundless and endless.

Outside, the torrential rain was still pouring down, clearly audible from inside the room, bleak and desolate.

The man, seeing Sylvan Cheney not asking anything more, kept quiet too, timidly watching Sylvan Cheney, his hands nervously twisting together.

Time ticked by, second by second.

Sylvan Cheney still said nothing, his gaze unreadable and dark, his chiseled face strained, lips tightly pressed.

The middle-aged man couldn’t understand his thoughts, timidly whispered, "Sir... I’ve told you the truth, if there’s anything offensive... please, please forgive me. We’re just ordinary fishermen, with no ill intentions... Please... grant me a way out, grant me a way out..."

This man didn’t even know where he was.

He had been blindfolded and brought over from Landon, without seeing anything, only vaguely hearing foreign languages, seemingly abroad.

He was extremely scared; he’d never left the country, and if he died here, no one would even know!

"Sir, I’ve told you the truth, I ask for nothing else, only for... a way out, sir, I beg you... My family is still waiting for me..."

Only then did Sylvan Cheney slowly turn his head, his gaze again falling on the man’s face: "Everything you said is the truth?"

"Yes, yes, it’s the truth, sir, I am in the light, you are in the dark, how could I dare to deceive you, I don’t have the guts..."