Inside the hospital, Bo Changshan lay on the hospital bed, looking frail and sickly.
His body was covered in various tubes and his complexion was ashen, devoid of any hint of blood.
He no longer possessed his former authority, seemingly having aged more than a decade all at once, a typical elderly man on his deathbed.
Bo Yanchen sat down with a cold expression, showing no trace of pity.
There's a reason to pity someone who is pitiable!
At Bo Changshan's age, one would expect him to be surrounded by children and grandchildren, enjoying family bliss. Yet, he chose his own demise!
This outcome wasn't pitiable at all—it was all his own doing.
"What are your conditions? Speak!"
Bo Changshan wouldn't just offer clues about the murderer for nothing—he was bound to have conditions.
Bo Changshan glared at him, his dry lips tightly pursed, breathing rapidly.
His face displayed great anger and even greater reluctance!
It took him a while to finally speak,
