Li Zhaonian is in Our Hands

No. 76, formally the Special Agents Headquarters of the Puppet Nationalist Party Central Executive Committee's Special Service Committee, had originally been located at No. 67 Great West Road before relocating to No. 76 Jessfield Road. Back in its No. 67 days, it had been an intelligence organization under the puppet government backed by the Japanese, and of course it remained under a Japanese-backed puppet government now. But Wang Zhaoming carried far more weight than those before him. That was why No. 76 had become so deeply ingrained in people's minds.

In truth, whether it had been the former No. 67 or the present No. 76, the people they persecuted and the sins they committed had been equally grave.

People were always like this. Once they resolved to betray their own side, they were more ruthless than anyone toward their own people. They had no way back and needed to prove themselves to their new masters, so naturally, they acted even more viciously.

Of course, nothing was absolute. There were also those who had been driven to this point by circumstance and had no choice but to make a living. But compared with the entire population of traitors and Japanese lackeys, they were still a minority.

People were used to throwing punches and drawing knives against the weak. The moment they gained even a little power, they wanted to stand over others and lord it over them. Mr. Lu Xun had said that when a servant became the master, he would never be willing to abolish the title "master"; his airs would likely be even fuller and more laughable than his former master's. Such matters all followed roughly the same logic. Petty men in peaceful times were no different.

A little after two in the afternoon, Wang Yan, having enjoyed a