On the overpass, Vivian, dressed in a white sweater, faced the railing, overlooking the entire New Territories Police Station.
Flames intertwined with thick smoke, reaching a height of five or six meters.
"Godfather, there seems to be a problem."
"You've never made a mistake in your work. What's going on?"
"It looks like Li Yaoguang might not be dead."
In Vivian's hand was a palm-sized black compass, its needle spinning rapidly.
"Understood, come back first and we'll talk. Hello? What's wrong?"
The person on the other end of the phone sensed a sudden change in Vivian's emotions.
A trace of sweat seeped out from the back of Vivian's neck. She glanced sideways in a certain direction next to her, clenching her phone so tightly that her knuckles turned white, clearly under tremendous psychological pressure.
"Hello? Vivian, are you okay?"
The voice on the phone pressed for an answer.
"Just hang up the phone, or let me do it for you."
Li Yan reached out his hand.
