Zhao Jia, using the alias Zhao Yongwei, had moved here only two days ago.
His reason for moving was singular: to ensure that Gong Lao would die today.
The aning of ’ensure’ is that if Gong Lao fulfilled their agreent to end their life today, he would play the role of a helpful neighbor, tily arriving at the scene to help extinguish the fire, protect the scene and the suicide note;
However, if Gong Lao hesitated at the last mont and did not fulfill their vow, he would have to help Gong Lao muster the courage to complete the mission.
It can’t be helped; too many people in this world are untrustworthy.
Many people, who clearly promised to do well, back out at the crucial mont. It’s not that the people behind Zhao Jia don’t trust Gong Lao, but an additional layer of ’insurance’ is also for safety.
This isn’t just to be responsible for Gong Lao but also for the more than 100 prison guards sacrificing today on Death Row. They absolutely must not die in vain.
At this mont, Zhao Jia stood by the window, overlooking the shattered corpse below, his face as dark as a pot bottom, and he couldn’t help but curse internally:
"The burnt corpse is already nearly cold, yet the patrol office people still haven’t co, damn it. If they don’t co soon, the scene next door will be disguised all over again."
According to Zhao Jia’s plan, the chief constable from the patrol office should arrive earlier than the people from the Second Prison.
After all, the patrol office is at most a ten-minute drive away, whereas the Second Prison is in the suburbs, taking at least 40 minutes to get here.
So by the ti Feng Mu and the others arrived at the scene, it should have been sealed and protected by the patrol office, leaving no chance for Feng Mu and others to enter the cri scene openly.
All calculated, the most likely to default was Gong Lao, who kept the agreent, but the patrol office had no sense of ti at all.
Zhao Jia’s chest was burning with rage like hot oil cooking his heart. He gently pressed his forehead against the door, trying hard to hold his breath, attempting to eavesdrop on any subtle sounds from the next room.
He thought he heard the clatter of a keyboard, but just by hearing the sound, he couldn’t figure out what bytes the keyboard was typing out.
Just as Zhao Jia’s thoughts were running wild, and he decided to grit his teeth and burst through the door to investigate next door, a dense sound of footsteps suddenly ca from across the door.
He imdiately restrained his breath, cautiously bringing his eye close to the peephole, secretly peering through that small aperture into the hallway.
Zhao Jia was not a prison guard from the Second Prison, and on the surface, he had no connection with the prison system.
Therefore, for those coming out of the room, he should not know any of them.
But in reality, Zhao Jia recognized Feng Mu, or rather, he’d seen Feng Mu’s photo, knew sothing about him, and knew this person was a "henchman" newly recruited by Qian Huan, the warden of the Second Prison.
And just as Feng Mu’s information flashed through Zhao Jia’s mind, suddenly, his heart jolted, pupils shrunk to needlepoints, a chill surging from his soles to his forehead.
Through the peephole, he saw Feng Mu in the hallway suddenly stop and turn, staring directly and fixedly at Zhao Jia’s peephole.
The eyes were black and white, and tal-cold, and in the next mont, a blood-red hue erged, eerily spinning out two hook jades.
Zhao Jia had never seen such strange eyes, for an instant, feeling a chilling sensation like having his soul X-rayed through the door.
He blinked hard, the strange eyes outside the peephole returned to normal, making Zhao Jia relax, thinking he had just glimpsed a hallucination.
However, in the next second, his heart leapt to his throat, confirming that what he saw was definitely no illusion.
Because a cold, mocking laughter burst through the door.
"Tell , am I right? Hmm, how should I correctly address you, the enthusiastic, fire-extinguishing good neighbor, or the murderer hiding behind the door?"
Bang——
The iron security door looked like it was struck violently by a snake’s tail, suddenly bulging inward, twisting and deforming like a wave.
Under the force of that powerful impact, the whole door couldn’t bear it, starting to twist and deform, and in a shrill crackling, the peephole split, forming a crack as thick as a pinky finger.
Through that crack, the voice piercing through the door beca clearer, even more eerie, as if carrying an indescribable malice, stabbing directly into Zhao Jia’s eardrum.
"Compared to the na Zhao Yongwei, Zhao Jia indeed suits a murderer’s na better, don’t you think?"
The shattered peephole fragnts hit Zhao Jia’s forehead, leaving a bright blood mark, and Zhao Jia’s pupils bulged, riveted to that horrific face outside the door as if magnetically attracted.
Despite the facial features being handso and the corners of the mouth holding what seed like a gentle smile, to Zhao Jia’s eyes, this face seed shrouded in a dark veil, exuding a chilling sinister aura.
Zhao Jia’s mind was in turmoil, panic-stricken: "How do you know my na is Zhao Jia, do you know ?"
The blood color in Feng Mu’s pupils flickered briefly, [Blood Bar Deceit Eye] although sotis hiding certain prefix information due to its cognitive limitations, but never shied away or obscured revealing true nas.
Before these eyes, you could conceal your identity, but not hide your true na.
But Zhao Jia didn’t know this, he only felt the curve of Feng Mu’s lips was unfathomable, a shocking sensation of having been completely exposed or betrayed.
Feng Mu bared a full set of white teeth, offering no explanation, only smiling as he said:
"Seems like you’re admitting to murdering Gong Lao and forging his suicide note. Tell , who sent you to kill and silence?"
Zhao Jia’s face contorted, the panic and chaos of having his identity suddenly revealed devoured by anger at the malicious framing, he shouted:
"You slander! I didn’t kill anyone, nor did I forge the suicide note!"
Feng Mu paid no attention to Zhao Jia’s vehent denials, casually turning his head, his eyes glancing over Gong Qi, then slowly across the faces of those who were visibly stunned.
His tone was unexpectedly gentle, as if a patient teacher discussing a trivial academic question with a group of obtuse students:
"He says he didn’t do it, but I’m certain that he did; he denies forging the suicide note, but I’ve determined his cri, so tell , who among us is true and who is false?"
Guan Chong and the others looked at the scene before them, suddenly feeling collectively that perhaps Gong Lao did not really commit suicide and that suicide note was forged by this fake neighbor after all.
Wait a minute, so both suicide notes are forgeries?!!
No, sothing’s not right...
Suddenly, their minds plunged into extre confusion, genuinely unable to distinguish true from false.
But, but amidst this confusion, a new kind of insight was erging, like a candle in the dark, guiding them onto the right path:
What you see isn’t important, what you hear isn’t important, the true or false doesn’t matter, what matters is...
Gong Qi burst into hearty laughter, stepping over Feng Mu, raising his arm and throwing it forward, his arm turning into a whip shadow, heavily smashing into the door, which with a ’rip’ sound split in half.
Gong Qi extended his right arm and sent it forth, his five fingers emitting a sound like a snake spitting its tongue, creepily reaching for Zhao Jia’s neck, all the while emitting a sinister laugh:
"My junior says you killed them, then you killed them. My junior says you forged the suicide note, then you forged it. If you don’t admit it, then die!!!"
Guan Chong and the others’ confusion faded, Guan Chong’s eyes lit up, angrily shouting as he followed closely behind Gong Qi, pouncing on Zhao Jia.
Yes, what you see isn’t important, what you hear isn’t important, the true or false doesn’t matter, what matters is... which side are you on!!!
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