Peering through the sturdy wooden fence, Zhang Enjie observed eight bodies neatly arranged within. They appeared to have been somewhat tidied up and were relatively clean.
His fists clenched involuntarily, his back arched, and his gaze remained fixed on the eight lifeless forms in the prison cell. Despite his grandmother and father's insatiable greed, they were still his closest family. In this moment, he was overwhelmed by a profound sense of regret, particularly for abandoning them earlier in a fit of frustration to take a solitary mountain excursion at noon. He wished he had never left them behind, or at the very least, he should have tried his best to prevent this tragedy. Even if he couldn't have stopped it, he should have been there to intercede on their behalf.
Qiao Mu ordered someone to push open the cell door and stepped inside with a somber demeanor.
