Zhao Cheng sighed with relief.
He had hidden it meticulously; how could they possibly know?
Upon looking at the villagers, he noticed fear still etched on some of their faces.
After all, those who had come included the Village Chief and the leader of the county's armed forces.
It had been over thirty years. Some of their fathers had passed away, and those who survived became more cowardly by the day.
Yet, there was a saying, the brave die, and the cowardly starve.
And now, turning themselves in would not absolve them of their guilt; it made more sense to deny everything stoutly.
Unexpectedly, Zhao Cheng's younger cousin whispered anxiously beside him, "Brother, it's bad news; three more people in uniforms are running this way, and they look like police."
Zhao Cheng's face darkened—could this issue not be covered up and was about to escalate?
He gave his younger brother a meaningful glance.
For some reason, perhaps instinct, Lu Ye kept his eyes on Zhao Cheng.
