At this moment, in the courtyard of Wang Jianghe's old home.
Mr. Qin, Mr. Liu, Jiang An, and others gathered around a pile of tools.
Everyone's gaze simultaneously focused on the wooden stick in Jiang An's hand.
Zhang Yean held a camera, carefully sticking a prominent scale near the fingerprint.
Then, she steadily pressed the shutter.
With a "click," the camera captured the fingerprint impression.
Her movements were smooth and precise.
After taking the photos, she meticulously checked the clarity and details of the pictures.
Mr. Liu's eyes were sharp as he meticulously scanned the tools on the ground.
He frowned slightly, revealing an inner confusion, gently shaking his head with a tone of bafflement.
"Brother Jiang An, why do you think this tool isn't an axe?"
"Wouldn't an axe strike with greater force?"
As he spoke, he picked up an axe, simulating a chopping motion.
Upon hearing this, the corners of Jiang An's mouth slightly curved upward, revealing a confident smile.
