No one knew when Gao Ming had crossed over, nor did anyone understand why he harbored such intense hatred for Situ An.
The torrential rain beat down on Gao Ming, droplets falling from his hair onto Situ An's face, each one chilling and unsettling.
"We meet again, Situ An!"
The memories of death within his heart turned like gears, the agonizing screams of pain, oppression, and despair echoed within Gao Ming's chest as his fingers pierced through the skin of Situ An's neck, continuing to press down.
Time and again he had returned, laying out death to pave his way into the future, finally carving out a path that allowed the insignificant Gao Ming to grasp the acting bureau chief of the East District Investigation Bureau by the neck.
Situ An couldn't breathe, speak any words; his hands clutched at Gao Ming's arms. Yet even as he gouged out deep bloody grooves, he couldn't make Gao Ming waver.
