116: Chapter 114 Indifference to Life and Death 116: Chapter 114 Indifference to Life and Death Hu ran with his head down in a wild dash.

He was not tall, with a dark face and reddened neck, his body covered with scars and marks.

Hu didn’t much care about his appearance; to him, the scars were more like memories.

For instance, the claw marks on his shoulder were inflicted by a leopard.

It was a beautiful creature, with a bushy tail that reminded him of a woman’s behind, as seductive as a she-leopard.

Hu vividly remembered his attempt to capture a green peacock alive, which eluded him twice.

On the third try, he pounced without regard for the torn cheek or the ripped neck and firmly grasped it in his hand.

The three scars that resulted were nothing more than bragging rights to him.

This time, trying to break out, he didn’t know what price he would have to pay.

Guo and the others were likely the cost already.

So reorganizing the team didn’t seem anything out of the ordinary to him.

Those who lived by hunting in the mountains had long since grown indifferent to life and death.

Hu too had experience in reassembling teams.

His only worry now was being shot dead like prey; aside from that, as long as he retained at least one arm and one eye, he could continue to hunt.

Legs weren’t essential, either; he could always hire someone to carry him, making for a rather leisurely and retired hunting method.

He had reached the age for retirement anyway.

Of course, legs were necessary on the run.

Hu occasionally changed direction, edging closer to the high northern wall.

With his experience, a moving target like him in this position was hard to hit.

Given only one shot, he would never fire on prey in such a state.

As he neared the western gate, Hu grew more composed and drew the NZ75 pistol tucked behind his waist with his other hand.

He knew there had to be police lying in wait ahead, but he wasn’t the least bit scared.

To be blunt, the increase in adrenaline these city cops experienced was slower than his own urination with prostatitis.

Just like when he had first escaped, as soon as Hu realized something was amiss and burst through the window, the surrounding police seemed dumber than a stunned hare.

The third floor was indeed quite high, but disregarding such a large window was simply unbelievable.

Hu had only taken a gamble to begin with; to jump was risky, but to not jump meant being pinned down just like those four foolish birds.

Hu had won his gamble once again.

He slowed his run slightly, already simulating the scene that was about to unfold in his mind.

…

Just around the right time, Mu Zhiyang was the first to spot Hu.

“Here comes a stout runner, speeding like a thief,” Mu pointed in a direction, and at the end of the road, indeed, there was a figure dashing like crazy.

“If you’ve got safety on, turn it off now,” Wei Zhenguo remained relatively calm, flipping off his own gun’s safety.

“My gun doesn’t have a safety,” Mu, watching the approaching figure of Hu, who resembled a wild boar, suddenly lost confidence.

Wen Ming consoled him, “No worries, even if your benevolent gun misfires, it can’t shoot through your thigh.”

Mu didn’t have time to banter back.

He drew his gun, adopting a shooting stance, and said, “As long as he doesn’t have a gun in his hand, the few of us can easily pin him down…”

Before he finished speaking, the stout runner hurtling toward them pulled out a pistol from behind his back.

The gun looked black, big, and thick, clearly more powerful than a small blunderbuss.

Jiang Yuan could even identify the model, “NZ75.”

“How do you know that?” Mu, watching the man draw closer, began to panic.

Jiang, with less experience in arrests, didn’t know exactly how difficult the situation was but remained cool, saying, “The boss used an NZ75 for killing.

9 millimeters, 15 rounds.”

“Four bullets each, and one of us might get spared one,” Mu quickly solved the arithmetic problem.

Wei clenched his molars, stepping in front of Jiang and leaning against the gate pillar, whispering, “Shoot when he’s closer.

If we just hold him back, reinforcements will surely arrive.”

Jiang asked, “How close?”

“15 meters.

It’s currently about forty or fifty,” Wei explained, “Any further won’t do.

These kind of desperados can take hits better than wild boars.”

Mu peeked out and saw the opponent had reduced his speed, obviously also preparing to sprint.

The scar-ridden face drew ever nearer, and Mu became anxious, unable to resist asking, “How far can his 9mm shoot?”

His Type 05 small blunderbuss also used 9mm rounds, but they were shorter than normal.

“We’re already within range,” said Jiang, leaning against the column next to the western gate, recalling the data he had seen on the NZ75.

The muzzle energy was 450 joules, and after 50 meters of travel, the bullet still carried 410 joules of energy, while the benign Type 05 could lose enough energy after the same distance to potentially not penetrate cardstock.

Mu peeked out again, muttering softly, “Maybe…”

“Shut your mouth,” Wei Zhenguo snapped as he yanked Mu Zhiyang back.

It was the very moment that Mu Zhiyang got pulled back when Hu pulled the trigger.

A flash of gunfire, and the corner of the pillar shattered into fragments, unsurprisingly piercing through Mu Zhiyang’s face.

“Shots fired!”

“Shots fired!”

The radio erupted in chaos.

Criminal detectives might look dashing on TV, but in reality, they’re often the legmen buried in case files, doing a lot of running around and handling countless complex tasks, with hardly any experience in fiery battles.

Until now.

Bang.

Bang bang.

Hu’s shooting was both accurate and ruthless, pinning four detectives behind the pillar with four bullets.

Out of his four bullets, three hit the edges of the pillar, and one grazed past it, hitting the ground, which was even more dangerous.

The four people, including Jiang Yuan, didn’t dare to stick their heads out.

Hu had proved with his skill that whoever did would get killed.

Mu Zhiyang, his face covered in blood, served as evidence, pressed firmly against the pillar by Wei Zhenguo.

Wei Zhenguo, a lifetime cop, was for the first time holding a pistol, unable to raise his head because of the gunfire.

“Shots fired at the west gate, Mu Zhiyang’s injured,” Wei Zhenguo said calmly into the radio.

“Be right there,” Huang Qiangmin’s voice was incredibly subdued; he was out of moves.

Wei Zhenguo grunted in response, bent his knees, reached out, and fired four shots toward Hu’s direction, pop, pop, pop.

The small pistol lacked power but had a fast firing rate.

By the time Wei Zhenguo stood up, Hu had only returned two shots, clearly affected.

“25 meters away.

Another 10 meters,” Wei Zhenguo informed everyone of the distance he had just seen, then promptly changed to a spare magazine.

Mu Zhiyang wriggled out from behind Wei Zhenguo, regained some composure, clenched his gun, and said, “Together.”

Wei Zhenguo grunted, saying, “I’ll count one, two, three, and we’ll run out and shoot together.”

Hu was still closing in.

Wei Zhenguo and the others didn’t really have a choice.

If they continued to hide behind the pillar, once someone got close, a tactical move could take out everyone here.

Even if it didn’t kill everyone, it wouldn’t be a happy ending.

If they all ran out together, the most likely outcome was that Hu would shoot one or two at close range.

But Hu would definitely be left behind as well.

The brave wins when paths cross in narrow alleys—there might be better choices at this time, but Wei Zhenguo was no tactical genius, and his head was still buzzing a bit.

The remainder of his wit was only sufficient for the final countdown.

“One, two, three…”

Jiang Yuan bowed his head, with no time to consider anything else, just listening to the command and following Wei Zhenguo as he stepped out.

Hu was now just 10 meters away.

Used to hunting, he wasn’t surprised by the prey’s desperate struggle and raised his hand to tighten his grip on the trigger.

Bang.

Hu’s first bullet was fired.

Bang.

From a rooftop in the distance, a sniper also pulled the trigger.

Bang bang bang.

Jiang Yuan and Wei Zhenguo fired at the same time.

The bullet…

penetrated the chest, throwing off Hu’s balance, and he involuntarily fell to the ground.

At the same time, Mu Zhiyang, who had leaped out from behind the pillar, let out another cry of “Ah!”

“Hold down this dog,” Wen Ming commanded without a second thought, tossing his emptied gun at Hu’s face and throwing himself on top.