"They must have slipped this piece of paper underneath the regular files I sign, covered it with a layer of rubbing paper. This way, when I signed the docunt on top, they could quietly obtain my signature on the one underneath. However, although the rubbing produces identical handwriting, it cannot replicate the exact ink marks! They can forge the handwriting but not the ink, as the ink is a rare edition, only available to and your father!"
The Old President’s excited voice echoed in the hospital room.
Bao Gucheng’s gaze gradually cald down.
So it was the ink.
He rembered the type of ink his father often used, indeed a rare edition, because the master who once mixed it had long passed away, and no one else could replicate it perfectly.
However, this ink color was subtle, and when identifying handwriting, people would not specifically pay attention to the color of the ink, so this detail had been overlooked for so long.
Bao Gucheng said nothing, his eyes flickering, and he quickly typed a command on his phone with his long fingers.
The Old President was heartbroken: "Those bastards actually used such despicable thods to forge my signature, arbitrarily relocating those children, like Si She, who have contributed so much to the country, leading to their tragic deaths... It was my poor judgnt in choosing people, not realizing what kind of things were hidden by my side..."
As he spoke, sothing suddenly occurred to him: "Secretary Zhao! All the docunts that needed my signature went through Secretary Zhao. He is very ticulous. If soone dared to tamper with them, he would definitely notice. If he didn’t notice..."
The only possibility was that his most trusted secretary had been quietly bribed.
"Quick, Gucheng, have them bring Secretary Zhao here for confrontation! What kind of dirty money has this bastard accepted, to betray the country, betray ..."
Bao Gucheng expressionlessly raised his phone: "He is dead."
As soon as the ink was confird, he had imdiately ordered Chen Long to control Secretary Zhao.
But he was still one step too late.
The secretary who had just escorted him into the hospital room had locked himself in the adjoining dicine preparation room and committed suicide by ingesting poison.
Perhaps he knew that falling into Bao Gucheng’s hands would leave him wishing for death, so he took a very large dose of poison, resulting in a terribly horrific death, with eyes bulging out.
The Old President: "..."
This sudden dramatic change nearly overwheld the elderly man’s fragile nerves. In a trembling voice, he asked, "Gucheng, what, what else can I do for you, for those children?"
The clues frustratingly ended with him, and if he could, he would offer his old bones in atonent.
Unexpectedly, Bao Gucheng rose coldly, leaving only two sentences:
"Live. Atone."
The Old President watched the man whose back was as straight as a pine, exuding a chilling air. His heart clenched tightly, knowing that with Bao Gucheng’s temperant, he would never let this go. He would dig ten feet deep to unearth the instigator, whip the corpse, and avenge his unjustly killed subordinates.
This Imperial City was likely to be engulfed in a storm of blood and wind.
Today’s suicide of Secretary Zhao was only a small beginning...
At this mont, Chen Long opened the door and entered, walking up to Bao Gucheng and whispering a few words to him.
He vaguely heard sothing about "Xi Xiao" and "a hundred kiloters out of the city"...
He didn’t know who they were talking about, but he saw a slight thawing in Bao Gucheng’s icy expression, emitting an incongruous warmth within the current atmosphere...
Warmth?!
The Old President was dumbfounded.
Whose news could make the murderous Bao Gucheng suddenly appear warm?!
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