He fumbled for the miniature voice recorder hidden in the sole of his shoe, the first piece of reporting equipment Guan Yao had ever given him. "My pen... writes only the truth..."
At three in the morning, Old Ghost dragged a blood-covered Zhang Shuli into a blind spot of the surveillance cameras.
"Last time I'll ask—will you sign or not?" His rubber baton pressed against Zhang Shuli's temple, yet in the man's eyes, he saw a calm that bordered on fanaticism.
Chapter 281