The night is dark and windy, with no stars or moon in sight.
The wheelchair rolls over the weeds, creaking and groaning.
Ma Gaoyi, while pushing Ji Mingyuan towards the abandoned factory, says, "There's been no movement all day long; could it be that there's really no one behind the young master?"
"You said that the file revealing the truth about the car accident was sent to his email by someone else, yet you can't trace the sender's IP address. With such anti-tracking technology, do you think the sender is just an ordinary person?"
"So, you mean the person who sent the young master the emails is the person behind him?"
"We'll know once we ask in a bit."
Ma Gaoyi pushes Ji Mingyuan up the ramp used for transporting goods to the second floor of the factory.
Ji Changqing is leaning back in his chair, resting with his eyes closed. Hearing the noise, he opens his eyes and vaguely sees someone coming up in the pitch-black environment.
With a snap.
