"Alright, you can leave now."
Amidst the clanging of metal, Chu Ge's voice rang out calmly. The Ferrari 458 that had caught the attention of every passerby was no longer groaning; it had been reduced to a heap of scrap metal, bearing countless hammer marks and sinking even deeper into the yellow sand.
Upon hearing Chu Ge's indifferent tone, Zhang Youze and Zhang Jinghui, father and son, looked as if they had been granted amnesty, their faces showing expressions of relief.
When they swung the first few hammers, all they felt was overwhelming heartache. But after repeating the action several times, all they felt was sore lower back and arms, their hands numbing.
After who knows how many swings, the area between their index fingers and thumbs was rubbed raw by the coarse wooden handles. Besides their heartache, their bodies were utterly exhausted. One was a boss accustomed to giving orders, the other a pampered son, so this physical task was quite the burden for them.
