The fake Dali sat on the ground with his legs folded, crying.

“Are you crazy, Uncle Wang?” he yelled. “Xiaotao-jiejie, I’m really Dali!”

Xiaotao was confused and didn’t know who to believe. “Even if you suspect him, don’t you think shooting him is a bit reckless?”

“He’s got calluses on his hands,” replied Yuanchao simply.

His observation skill was indeed impressive. In fact, Yuanchao had suspected Dali to be fake the moment he saw Dali running after me, so when I gestured to him to subdue the fake Dali, he took action straight away.

Then, the fake Dali’s expressions changed, and his voice altered dramatically too.

“It doesn’t matter,” he said. “Neither of you can escape now. Even your police uniform won’t protect you!”

“Who the hell are you?” asked Xiaotao.

“You have no business...