Chapter 673 (1/2)

”Bang...!”

”Ah...!”

”Bang...!”

”Ah...!”

In an abandoned warehouse on the outskirts of husumi, heartbreaking howls reverberated in the open room, causing waves of echoes. On the crossbeam of the warehouse, the core leaders of St. Elijah's truth society were hanged. Then Hassan's men mercilessly beat him in the stomach with a stick.

Every time they were hit, these people would twitch like fish, go down with a few sticks, and they would spit out everything in their stomachs. They would no longer be enthusiastic in the central square.

”Don't you guys say hunger strike? How can you spit out so many things?” There are onlookers in Abkhazia, a face of disdain asked. Yes, I haven't eaten for a few days, but I can still spit so many things out. What's the structure of these people's bodies.

”Ha ha...”

This banter caused a burst of laughter, and Hassan couldn't help laughing.

After a scuffle in October street, members of the truth society of Abkhazia captured a large number of senior cadres of the truth society of St. ilia, while the rest of the truth society of St. ilia, who fled and scattered, did not dare to make any more mistakes. So Hassan brought these people back, tortured them, and pressed them for the whereabouts of Gamsa hurdia, the leader of the opposition in Georgia.

”Stop fighting, I said. I'll tell you everything!” After less than half an hour of torture, a few of these people couldn't hold on. They begged that Hassan's men would stop beating them. They were willing to answer the secret of the organization.

Hassan despised the backbone of these people in his heart. He really didn't understand how Stalin's hometown could have such a soft egg.

The guy who begged for mercy was put down from the crossbeam of the roof. As soon as the rope was released, the whole person collapsed on the ground like a pool of rotten meat. Hassan's hands picked up a bucket of cold water and poured it on him. Now it's December, the coldest time of the year. This bucket of ice water will be used in an instant, which is the name of most of the national fighters.

”Ah... Ha... Ah! Please don't torture me any more, I'll tell you all I know... ”The other side got up from the ground and begged for mercy.

Hassan slowly sat up from his chair. He picked up his baseball bat and walked slowly to each other. Then he asked in a slow voice, ”where are the gamsahurji people?”

”No... I don't know?”

Hassan kicked him to the ground with one kick, and then raised his baseball bat to make a big fight.