Yet here he was. Reduced to a prisoner. Stripped of the very control he prided himself on.
His confidence, once unwavering, now flickered in the presence of Lin Xun—the former investigator notorious for his psychological warfare. Qi Zemin had read about him and seen the records. He had dismissed the man as nothing more than a disgraced officer, expelled in disgrace. A relic of a past system.
Now, trapped under Lin Xun's scrutiny, Qi Zemin saw the truth: The rumors had severely underestimated him.
Lin Xun circled him slowly. The sound of his shoes tapping against the concrete floor, each step deliberate like a predator testing its prey. The room was dim, stretching long shadows across the walls, adding an eerie depth to the suffocating silence.
Then, Lin Xun leaned in, lowering his voice to a whisper—yet every word struck like a blade.
