Yang Jian sized up Wang Yue.
He was not very old, under thirty at most. Despite dressing like an unruly thug, smoking a cigar and wearing a scarf, he gave off a rather mature and steady impression.
Clearly, Wang Yue was also a veteran who had gone through quite a few supernatural incidents.
His bearing and judgment had been tempered through repeated brushes with death.
Looking at the middle-aged woman hanging beneath the streetlamp, struggling as the life gradually left her, Yang Jian could not help frowning.
"What? Didn't you want to beat her to death just now? I did you a favor and saved you a bullet. That should be a good thing, shouldn't it? Don't tell me you're blaming me?" Wang Yue noticed Yang Jian's gaze and immediately spoke.
"No. I just remembered something," Yang Jian said.
"The deaths of Yan Li's family of three were very similar to this. They were hanged alive too. Their bodies were left in the villa for two or three days, already crawling with maggots. Was that your doing?"
Wang Yue's eyes shifted slightly. Damn it.
He had actually overlooked such a detail.
Yan Li had been Yang Jian's partner before his death. They had dealt with supernatural incidents together and worked together; they could probably be considered friends.
"Not speaking? Then you did it," Yang Jian said, his eyes narrowing. "You're ruthless enough. Killing them to silence them, leaving no survivors."
Wang Yue's expression changed, then he said, "I had no choice. Someone forced me to do it. What else could I do? If you want trouble, you should go find Zhao Kaiming. He was the one who made me do it. I didn't know about it at first."
"But you still did it, didn't you?" Yang Jian sneered coldly. "You