"You're that Little Prison Chief, you're not dead?"
Wu Tianxiong finally remembered and exclaimed in shock.
Jiang Feng sensed something was off.
"The person Cao Zhengyang killed that day wasn't you."
"Why didn't he kill you?"
Wu Tianxiong murmured, furrowing his brows in thought.
That day, after Jiang Feng handed over Wang Qisheng's note to him, he went to the Imperial City to find the Seventh Prince, who immediately dispatched staff and people from the Dali Temple. They found out that Wang Qisheng inexplicably died of illness in Zhenbei Prison.
The Little Prison Chief who delivered Wang Qisheng's note to the black market also died.
In the end, it was all in vain.
Never imagined.
To meet Jiang Feng again at the bottom of the cliff.
"Jiang Feng, where are you?"
Suddenly, Han Dong's voice came.
She was holding a torch as she descended from the cliff.
It was deep into the night.
