Upon hearing Yan Junze's words, Zhao Qi suddenly lifted his head, staring at him with a face full of shock, "Really... really? People have really died in a fire in this old building?"
"To my knowledge, yes, pretty much exactly like you imagined," Yan Junze said decisively.
He then stood up, walked to the door, and pressed his ear against it to listen.
At the staircase on the ground floor of this old building, a man in a trench coat was leading the way, followed by four muscular men in black tracksuits.
Besides the man in the trench coat, the other four men all had the faces typical of Huaying people, and one of them was tightly grasping a sealed metal box, closest to the man in the trench coat.
The five men silently moved up to the second floor, their footsteps nearly inaudible, and then the man in the trench coat led the way into the second-floor corridor, heading towards the far end.
The remaining four, without uttering a word, followed closely behind him.
