Fan Gao, who stood at one meter ninety, was twenty centimeters shorter than the towering Jiang Tao, who was two meters ten.
He sported a buzz cut, a square face with thick eyebrows and thick lips. On this utterly plain face, which could even be described as modest, one could hardly discern any expression.
He seemed utterly devoid of emotion, like a robot that knew not joy nor sorrow. His pancake face never exhibited any emotional change.
Yet, this seemingly ordinary man was a formidable figure capable of contending with Jiang Tao, the head of the detective agency, with an even chance of victory or defeat.
And it was this same man who, when a hint of icy coldness transpired upon his broad face, managed in an instant to suffuse the entire hall of Tianxiang Garden with a chilling murderous intent that gripped everyone's spine.
Under this overwhelming aura, ordinary people would even find it difficult to move their fingers!
