Zhang Songqiao is dead.
When Lin Beichen twisted his neck, there was a strange smile on Zhang Songqiao's lips, as if he was not afraid of the impending death but rather had a hint of expectation.
Facing an enemy he couldn't challenge, continuing to cling to life would only be a form of torment.
Zhang Songqiao seemed to understand this feeling very well.
Zhang Changhuai lay beside Zhang Songqiao, with a trace of fear on his face, but his eyes were already lifeless, clearly devoid of life.
Lin Beichen silently watched the two.
Father and son dying on the same day could be considered a kind of fate.
Lin Beichen thought silently, a smile crossing his lips.
"With this, the Zhang family's problem should be resolved, right?"
Lin Beichen thought to himself.
A gentle breeze blew, mixing rainwater with blood, soaking into the two corpses.
At this moment, Lin Beichen suddenly noticed something strange about Zhang Changhuai's face.
