Fang Cheng followed the sound and looked up.
He could clearly feel a penetrating gaze shooting from the shadows and falling on him.
It wasn't just a simple glance, but an examination as if with substance, carrying the pressure cultivated by someone who has long been in authority.
The interrogation room was large, yet it had no windows, appearing exceptionally cold and gloomy.
Only a single overhead lamp cast a dim yellow glow, barely illuminating over half the area.
In the center of the light circle, there stood a solitary metal chair.
A few meters away, behind the wide interrogation table, sat the person who had just spoken.
On the table, besides the Ancient Bronze Bell, there was a laptop, a mechanical timer, a pen, and a score sheet.
The young staff member who had brought Fang Cheng in walked straight to the left side of the table, pulled out a chair, and sat down.
Then he typed a few words on the laptop, seemingly recording something.
