The truth was often the most hurtful

The black Bentley ran very fast on the road and ran a few red lights. Ji Rufeng's eyes were blood-red. No matter what, as long as it involved Lu Yuyao, he would become neither calm nor rational. Whether it was eight years ago or today, eight years had passed.

When he drove to the abandoned factory in the western suburbs, an hour had already passed. Because it had been abandoned for many years and had not been developed, the factory that took up a thousand miles was now abandoned and no one could be seen.

Ji Rufeng did not know that the Yuyao was locked up there. Most likely, even Zhao Dongcheng did not know about it. However, there was no way to find it in such a big place.

He frowned, and with no other choice, he called Zhao Dongcheng again, "I'm at the entrance of the factory, ask your subordinates to come back."