Speaking of harm, Xiang Lanlan also found it strange. She always felt that things were not that simple. The death of Liao Ya's mother was too peculiar. What could a woman do to save her own daughter? There was no need for these people to kill her.
Even though they had mentally prepared themselves, when they took out the last two men guarding the door and came in to see Liao Ya, they were still stunned by the sight before them.
The moment they opened the door, they saw a coffin painted dark red directly facing the entrance. The lid was not on, and a foul stench wafted toward them, with offerings of roast chicken and fruits displayed on a short table in front, along with a censer that was slowly emitting smoke. And Liao Ya was three steps away from the coffin, her hands and feet bound, the rope wrapped around a pillar that supported the roof. No matter how she moved, she couldn't get away from the vicinity of the coffin.
