Inside He Biao's residence, the atmosphere was as heavy as the calm before a storm.
Li Jian, Jiang An, and Zhang Yean were fully armed, their eyes conveying a warlike vigilance.
Though this wasn't a crime scene in the traditional sense, full of blood and chaos.
They all knew full well in their hearts.
This place's importance was no less than any actual murder scene.
Jiang An stood in the middle of the living room like a vigilant leopard, with piercing eyes, meticulously scanning every corner of the room inch by inch.
The coffee table, the bookshelf, the TV cabinet...
No object could escape his forensic eyes.
It was as if these inanimate items were about to spill their secrets under his scrutiny.
Suddenly, Jiang An's gaze was magnetically drawn to a row of books on the shelf.
Li Jian, who had been observing Jiang An's every move, instantly caught his unusual reaction.
He slightly turned his body, casting an inquisitive look.
