The court fell into an eerie silence.
Purple Summers had only asked the witness to share his story, but somehow the atmosphere had subtly shifted, and everyone found themselves holding their breath uncontrollably.
Dion Benson did not answer.
"What's wrong? You remember Jane McCain's story, but you can't remember your own?" Purple Summers asked.
Her face still wore a smile, her voice soft and gentle, yet Dion Benson felt a mocking undertone behind that smile, a long-lasting implication in her tone.
"I don't have any explosive stories to share, just some jokes," Dion Benson averted his gaze, avoiding Purple Summers's eyes.
"How so?" Purple Summers chuckled, "As far as I know, Mr. Benson is a fishing enthusiast, has participated in competitive fishing contests, and has even won awards. Such experiences are quite thrilling to us laypeople."
Dion Benson's eyes darkened and he remained silent.