Daming: Dad, you are really not good at governing the country

When Lu Feng stepped into the prison of the Northern Pacification Division, a chill that penetrated his flesh and bones hit him in the face.

His teeth chattered from the cold and he subconsciously wrapped his cloak tighter around him.

The chill seemed to be real, seeping in through the collar and cuffs, making Lu Feng shiver.

He sighed inwardly, "This damn place is really eerie."

Lu Feng looked up and saw that the prison building seemed to be shrouded in a lingering shadow.

The brick and stone walls are mottled, as if they have been gnawed away by time.

The dampness that has accumulated over the years permeates every inch of the air, as if bitter water could be squeezed out with a slight twist.

The prison roof was depressingly low, with densely woven beams crisscrossing each other.

It was like the ribs of a ferocious beast, cutting the space into an increasingly cramped space, making it seem as if even breathing had become difficult.

Lu Feng walked into the cell. The narrow space seemed like an endless hell that imprisoned his soul.

The prisoners were packed shoulder to shoulder, so crowded that there was almost no room to stand.

They were either sitting or lying, with dishevelled hair and dirty faces, their eyes full of despair and sadness, as if the last glimmer of hope had been taken away.

At this moment, Lu Feng's brows were tightly twisted into the shape of a "川" character, and a barely perceptible trace of pity flashed in his eyes.

He put his hands behind his back and walked slowly.

Every step feels heavy, as if stepping in mud, or as if stepping on one's own heart.

The miserable conditions of these prisoners made Lu Feng involuntarily recall the difficult days when he was wronged and suffered injustice, and a bitter feeling arose in his heart.

He murmured to himself: "There are always so many people suffering in this world!"

The moment he turned around, Lu Feng saw the pacification envoy Mao Xiang walking hurriedly towards him.

I saw that the other person had a perfect smile on his face. That smile contained both the respect of a subordinate to his superior and a hint of seeking credit.

At this time, Mao Xiang bowed slightly and said in an urgent but measured tone: "Sir, it must be hard for you to come to this harsh place in person.

When winter comes here, the wind is as cold as a knife.

The water poured in directly from the small air vents, freezing the prisoners so much that their bones ached.

They were wearing thin clothes and could only huddle together to keep warm, but what was the use?
In summer, the cell was like a big steamer, so hot and stuffy that it was hard to breathe.

Coupled with poor sanitation and lack of water, once the epidemic broke out, it was impossible to control it.

Look, these jailers are numb and watch the prisoners suffer."

As Mao Xiang spoke, he secretly looked up to observe Lu Feng's expression, with a barely perceptible cunning gleam in his eyes.

Lu Feng turned a deaf ear to these complaints. He stared at Mao Xiang with a sharp gaze and said in a deep voice, "I know all of this.

Let me ask you, where is the criminal who knew the secret of the "Shanxi Military Horse Case"?

You reported that he was imprisoned here, but why can't I find him anywhere?"

A trace of panic flashed across Mao Xiang's eyes for a moment, but he regained his composure in an instant.

He put on a helpless bitter smile and stammered, "Sir, I am really ashamed to say this.

That prisoner...fell suddenly ill a few days ago and died before he could get medical treatment.

My subordinates are also deeply distressed by this matter and have been thoroughly investigating the cause.

I had thought I would report to you in detail after I got the results, but I didn't expect you to come in person."

As Mao Xiang spoke, he wiped the non-existent beads of sweat from his forehead with a handkerchief, groaning inwardly.

However, Lu Feng caught a flash of evasion from the depths of the other person's eyes.

He couldn't help but wonder: Was Mao Xiang's behavior simply due to his fear of dereliction of duty, or was there an unspeakable secret behind it?
How much did Mao Xiang participate in the death of the key suspect in the "Shanxi Military Horse Case"? Thinking of this, Lu Feng's pupils shrank suddenly, and his face was instantly covered with frost.

He took a step forward, his eyes piercing at Mao Xiang like a knife, and said coldly: "Dead? The case hasn't been investigated yet, and the key witness is gone. Do you think this is a joke?
I see that you are quite capable in your work, so I have entrusted this important prisoner to your care.

Now that something like this has happened, how do you think we should explain it?"

Lu Feng folded his hands in front of his chest and tilted his head slightly.

At this moment, he looked down at Mao Xiang, with unquestionable majesty in his tone.

Although Mao Xiang was so frightened that his face turned pale and his legs went slightly weak, he still pretended to remain calm.

He just bowed and said, "My Lord, please calm down!
The prison environment is terrible and diseases are rampant, making it difficult to prevent the spread of the virus.

I have ordered all the jailers to investigate fully and report to you as soon as they have any news. I hope you will give me a chance to atone for my crime."

Although Mao Xiang's voice trembled slightly and beads of sweat appeared on his forehead, his words still revealed a sense of competence and control over the situation.

However, Lu Feng noticed that when Mao Xiang said "make every effort to investigate", his fingers trembled slightly unconsciously, as if he was trying hard to suppress something.

Seeing this, Lu Feng snorted coldly and slowly turned around.

He stood with his hands behind his back, his back to Mao Xiang, and after a moment of silence, he said, "If I find out there's something fishy going on, you know the consequences.

I'll give you three days to find out all the people and details that the prisoner has come into contact with, and not let go of any clues."

Lu Feng's voice was low and cold, as if it carried the chill in the cell, making people shudder.

Mao Xiang quickly responded, "Yes, sir!
I will do my best to live up to your trust."

Then Mao Xiang stepped aside respectfully, with a barely perceptible ruthlessness flashing in his eyes.

This flash of fierceness made Lu Feng more convinced that this matter was not simple at all.

At this time, Lu Feng turned his head and looked at the prisoners in the cell, with a hint of determination in his eyes.

He secretly vowed: no matter how great the obstacles were, he would uncover the truth and give justice to those innocent people.

As time went by, Zhao Wu, the jailer who was responsible for delivering meals to the key suspect, was brought over by Mao Xiang.

Before Zhao Wu came, Mao Xiang whispered to Lu Feng, "Sir, Zhao Wu has a lot of problems.

He acts selfishly and has a very bad reputation among the prison guards.

I have compiled some of Zhao Wu's misdeeds, and Your Excellency may be able to find a breakthrough from him."

As he spoke, Mao Xiang handed over a booklet, and Lu Feng took it and put it in his arms calmly.

At this time, Zhao Wu had been brought in front of Lu Feng. He was of medium build but had the sturdiness of a farmer, like an old tree that had weathered many storms but was still firmly rooted.

A square face, with wrinkles carved by time and the scorching sun.

Under the short eyebrows that were as sparse as dead grass, a pair of small eyes were always squinted in alertness.

The flat nose looked like it was accidentally flattened by the fist of fate, and the thick lips were like two pieces of cracked land.

When he smiled, his uneven yellow teeth were clearly visible like the crooked ruins in the wasteland.

He had a black felt hat on his head with the brim pulled down very low.

It was as if he wanted to hide his thoughts in that shadow, making it difficult to see the look in his eyes.

At this time, Zhao Wu was wearing a dark gray coarse cloth shorts with patches on top of patches, like a patchwork of tattered maps, recording his past years.

As a Jinyiwei jailer, the black cloak, which is worn but embroidered with eye-catching logos, is a symbol of Zhao Wu's identity.

The cloak fluttered in the wind, as if whispering about his extraordinary errand. (End of this chapter)