Reborn a day later, I emptied my enemy's possessions beforehand.

Sun Deming suddenly sprang up from the ground, the movement so violent that he almost fell, and staggered to the wall in the center of the living room where the fish tank used to be.

There was nothing left on the walls.

The blood-red dragon he bought for a million dollars, the two-and-a-half-meter-long fish tank, the filtration system, the lights, the air pump—all of it disappeared.

All that remained on the wall were damp water stains and a few power sockets, with traces of copper rust from the water pump plug still visible in the socket holes.

"Where's my Crimson Dragon?!"

Sun Deming's voice no longer sounded like a human's; it sounded more like a bull that had been stabbed, long and sharp, echoing several times in the empty living room before dissipating.

His face flushed red, the veins on his neck bulged, and tears welled up and streamed down his wrinkled face, dripping onto his white training clothes.

He stumbled back to where the fish tanks used to be—now the bathtub and the fish were all gone.

The golden arowana is gone, the crown stingray is gone, the discus is gone, the Egyptian angelfish is gone—all those precious ornamental fish he had raised for years and spent millions on are gone.

The fish tank, water, and equipment all disappeared completely, leaving not a single drop of water behind.

"Golden Arowana! Over 300,000! Crown Black and White Rays! Over 100,000! Discus! A tank full of them cost tens of thousands! All gone!"

Sun Deming swayed, one hand bracing against the wall, the other clutching his chest, gasping for breath, his lips turning purple, his face pale, looking as if he might collapse at any moment.

Zhou Fuxiang stood behind him, his face also covered in tears, his voice hoarse and strained, carrying a sorrowful lament for the loss of his kind:

"Not only are your fish gone, everything is gone. Look around your house, what's left?"

Sun Deming suddenly turned around, his gaze sweeping across the entire living room, before staggering upstairs.

Zhou Fuxiang, Li Guoqiang, and Wang Lei followed behind.

The master bedroom on the second floor was completely empty; the bed was gone, the wardrobe was gone, and the safe was gone.

The walk-in closet was completely empty; the clothes were gone, the shoes were gone, and the watch was gone.

Sun Deming stood at the door of the dressing room, motionless like a stone statue.

"My safe..." His voice was so soft it was almost inaudible, as if he were talking to himself.

"Gold bars...cash...property deeds...all gone..."

He stumbled downstairs, out of the villa, and into the yard.

The garage door on the east side of the yard was open, and the inside was empty. The black Mercedes-Benz E-Class that he had never driven—which Zhou Haibing had bought for him for more than 500,000 yuan—was also gone.

There was only a thin layer of dust left on the parking space, and even the tire tracks were barely visible.

Sun Deming stood in the empty garage, his legs went weak, and he sat down on the ground.

His mouth was open, tears streaming silently down his face, and he lay there limply like a pile of flesh with its bones removed.

"Who did this...who did it...?"

His voice seemed to come from underground, muffled, buzzing, with a desperate echo.

Zhou Fuxiang stood at the garage door, his hands hanging at his sides, his shoulders slumped, his voice low, but each word seemed to be squeezed out from between his teeth:

"Who else could it be but my damned son? He was the only one who came yesterday."

After he arrived, we knew nothing more. When we woke up, the house was empty.

My car is gone, and so is yours. My medicinal herbs are gone, and so are your fish.

If my money is gone, your money is definitely gone too.

Sun Deming abruptly raised his head, his face contorted in a grimace, tears and snot streaming down his face. His voice was loud and shrill, echoing through the garage and making eardrums ache.

"Zhou Haibing, you ingrate! You beast! My daughter has been married to you for decades, and this is how you repay me?"

Give me back my Crimson Dragon! Give me back my Golden Dragon! I spent over a million on it! Over a million!

Li Guoqiang stood beside him without interrupting him.

Once Sun Deming's crying had subsided somewhat, he stepped forward, his voice soft but clear:

"Sun Deming, Zhou Fuxiang, you two come with us back to the Chengbei Branch Bureau first."

This case isn't just between your two families. There have been several similar cases in the north of the city, and we need you to go there to cooperate with the investigation.

Explain what happened to the person in charge there.

Zhou Fuxiang wiped away his tears, nodded, his voice still trembling with sobs but more composed than before:

"I'll go with you. I need to find that bastard and ask him face to face why he treated his own father like that."

Sun Deming also got up from the ground, dusted off his pants, his eyes were still red, and his voice was hoarse, but the fierceness in his tone was still there:

"I'm going too. I want my fish back."

"I won't be able to sleep a wink for the rest of my life if I don't get that blood-red dragon back."

Li Guoqiang took out his phone, walked to the side, and dialed Captain Fang's number.

Once the call connected, he briefly explained the situation on his end—

Sun Deming's house was also emptied, just like Zhou Fuxiang's. The two elderly people were emotionally unstable, but they were not injured. He planned to take them back to the Chengbei Branch.

Captain Fang paused for a moment on the other end of the phone, then said, "Bring him back. I'll wait here."

Li Guoqiang agreed and hung up the phone.

Li Guoqiang and Wang Lei each helped an elderly person out of Sun Deming's empty courtyard.

Zhou Fuxiang walked ahead, taking large strides, his face ashen, his lips tightly pressed together, not uttering a single word.

Sun Deming walked behind, supported by Wang Lei. His steps were unsteady, as if he were walking on cotton. He kept muttering something, but his voice was too soft to hear clearly.

The four people got into the police car.

Li Guoqiang started the car, and the police car slowly drove out of the cement road in Chenjia Village, turned onto the county road, and headed towards the provincial capital.

Soon, they arrived at the Chengbei Branch.

When the door was pushed open, everyone's eyes turned to the doorway.

Zhou Fuxiang was wearing a drab old jacket, his hair was messy, his face was still wet with tears, and his eyes were bloodshot.

He stood at the door, his gaze first sweeping blankly over the people in the conference room, then landing on Sun Guiying, then on Zhou Hailong, and then on Sun Guiwu.

Familiar faces, some swollen, some bruised, some broken, looked like wounded soldiers withdrawn from the same battlefield.

Sun Guiying was the first to react.

She sprang up from her chair, shuffling towards him in men's slippers that were two sizes too big, her voice shrill and trembling:

"Dad? What brings you here?"

She called out "Dad," but the person she was addressing was her father-in-law, Zhou Fuxiang.

Zhou Fuxiang glanced at her, his lips trembled a few times, and his voice was so hoarse it didn't sound like his own, like an echo coming from a dry well:

"Guiying, what are you doing here? What happened?"