Chapter 513: It Is Strength and Also Shackles

When real estate developers design house styles for the middle class, they will definitely reserve a garage for them.

The middle class sometimes pursues the quality and style of life more than people in the upper class. This is a very interesting social phenomenon because the middle class always believes that "making oneself better will also make life better."

They will require their houses to have a yard, and some even hope that their yard can have a big tree or a swing set, so that children can play in the yard.

They will also require their houses to have a garage, and the garage is connected to the main building.

This way, when it rains, they don't need to rush out of the car and let those damn raindrops fall on their clothes that cost hundreds of dollars a set.

There are quite a few things in the garage that are not usually used, all piled up here, and some tools, which provided some cover for the deputy chief.

He was panting, pulled out the pistol magazine, and took a look; only four bullets were left.

He must return to the car, or return to the room; there is a shotgun in the room.

From where he was hiding now to the door of the room, there was a distance of about five meters. It sounded like it was just a blink of an eye.

But that blink of an eye was enough for those people to kill him several times over.

His brain was very messy now. He looked up at the gunmen hiding behind some cover outside the garage, watching him with guns, and his adrenaline was directly off the charts like never before.

He took a deep breath, suddenly fired a few shots to make the gunmen outside shrink their necks, and with the help of what might have been just one or two seconds, he rushed into the room.

He fell heavily to the ground, and from outside came the shout, "He's hit!"

The deputy chief's face turned slightly red. He looked at his wife and son screaming while holding the phone in the living room, and a sense of despair emerged in his eyes!

They came at such an inconvenient time, or rather, they came at such a convenient time; he didn't have any preparation at all.

His son looked at his bleeding leg in horror, "You've been shot!"

The deputy chief nodded, but he couldn't care about saying anything to his son now; he had already heard those people approaching his house.

The loose floorboard that his wife had always asked him to fix, and which he had never had time to fix, let out a scream of being unable to bear the weight.

The creaking sound carried something chilling!

He hopped to the utility room under the stairs on the first floor, rummaged through it, and found his shotgun—a Stuart shotgun, a very classic style, using a magazine-fed structure at the stock.

Bullets can be inserted one by one from the guide groove of the stock, providing up to seven plus one bullets. He gripped the shotgun tightly, and with trembling hands, tore open the bullet box and installed the bullets!

A dark shadow had already appeared outside the door. After he pushed the last bullet in, he chambered it directly, and the shotgun's simple but exquisite mechanical structure began to play its role.

A bullet was pushed into the chamber by a push rod, and the hammer was also pushed open in the process.

The deputy chief raised the shotgun and fired a shot at the dark shadow outside the door!

Bang!

His wife was so scared she dropped the phone, and his son also lay on the ground. The shadow outside the door swayed, and someone let out a scream!

His face was covered in bean-sized sweat beads. The orange-yellow bullet was ejected from the ejector, and sweat beads fell into his eyes.

He blinked—this is a person's instinctual reaction—and at the same time, the sound of the back door being opened came from the kitchen. The moment he turned his head, the front door was kicked open!

Pincer attack. The moment he turned around, gunshots came from behind. He felt as if someone had pushed him, and coupled with the gunshot wound on his thigh, he staggered and fell to the ground!

The shotgun in his hand, because of the instinctual reaction when falling, fired a shot at the floor, and then slipped out of his hand and fell to the side.

From the receiver hanging on the side of the cabinet and still shaking, came the response of the police station operator, "Ma'am, was that a gunshot just now?"

But no one could answer it.

The deputy chief's wife knelt on the ground, holding her head, looking at her husband who had fallen to the ground in horror. Her son was roughly in the same state.

The deputy chief felt that breathing was a bit difficult. He looked down; there was no wound on his chest; the wound came from his back.

His lung should have been pierced. If he couldn't go to the hospital right now for this kind of injury, basically he wouldn't be able to survive.

His current posture made it very difficult to shoot, and the gun was not in his hand.

He turned around with difficulty, leaned against the corner of the wall, and panted. Several young men walked in from outside, holding guns.

The deputy chief was a bit surprised. He had thought he would be terrified and uneasy, would feel fear, and even beg the other party to spare him.

But now he actually didn't feel the slightest bit of fear, and didn't feel... afraid or panicked just because he was about to die.

He just raised his head and looked at the young man in front of him who looked a bit familiar, "You are looking for me. My family is innocent. Let them go!"

His wife was already too nervous to speak, while his son looked at him with tears, seemingly begging him to save him.

But now, he couldn't do anything, could only lie here, feeling life disappearing from his body bit by bit.

The young man looked down at him from a high position, with a smile on his face that made him very uncomfortable, "Think carefully, how did you answer that night?"

The deputy chief became dejected in an instant, became aged. He lowered his head, and his eyes also lost their luster.

He didn't even have time to say anything else, and a bullet shot in from his forehead. His whole body also shook violently, and he tilted to the side. The young man shook his head, looked at the other two people in the room who couldn't even cry, and nodded slightly.

The bang-bang-bang gunshots resounded through the entire room in an instant. Occasionally, the flames sprayed from the muzzle could cast some shadows on the wall, and although it was only for a moment, it became eternal.

The gunshots in the room continued intensely for a while, for ten seconds or so, and then these young men helped an unlucky guy who had been shot back to the car and quickly left the scene.

The deputy chief's house finally became quiet again, just as if no one had come here, and it hadn't lost anything.

The luster in the deputy chief's eyes completely disappeared. He seemed to be thinking, feeling annoyed, feeling regretful.

But life is like this; for a question, there is only one chance to choose forever.

If those young men had failed that night, then their end would have been the same as the deputy chief's family, or even worse than them.

In such a situation, whether a person is innocent or not is actually not that important. In the end, those young lives would only become a cold number in the newspaper.

They survived; this has nothing to do with others. No one gave them grace; it was they themselves who fought for their lives and survived.

But the deputy chief seemed to lack some luck; he didn't survive, that's all.

The group left quickly, and unluckily, they also brought a wounded person when they left.

At a glance/p>

The bad news is that this unlucky guy was shot once when breaking the door, and the bullet should have also pierced his chest.

But the good news is that they are going to the hospital now to solve this problem.

Ten minutes later, seven or eight police cars came quickly. Someone in the community called the police. Hearing intense gunshots here, and also involving the residence of police personnel, the police station side attached great importance to it and immediately sent a large group of people over.

If it hadn't involved the police, they might have waited at least five minutes.

They had already tried very hard to rush over here, but they were still one step late.

When they pushed open the door, the police officer walking in the first position turned his face and said "God," the tragic state of the three people in the room made him unable to bear to look directly.

"The deputy chief and his wife and child are all dead..."

They searched the whole house and didn't find anyone else. The forensic doctor arrived late.

Looking at the corpses covered in bullet holes, the forensic doctor, while putting on gloves, gave his professional judgment—suspected to be done by the Lansi family.

The Lansi family has already been registered in the forensic field of Jincheng. Forensic doctors really don't like to deal with the corpses of people killed by the Lansi family because it is very troublesome to deal with.

Especially that madman Hailamu, he can shoot fifty-five bullets into a person's body, which is a terrible challenge for forensic doctors.

He has to find every bullet head from the flesh that has already been shot to pieces, and then try his best to piece those pieces of flesh together, putting them together by category.

After the bullet enters the human body, it will roll, and the huge force will tear the delicate organs.

Various tissue fluids, body fluids, liquids secreted by internal organs, and fresh blood fuse together in the chest and abdominal cavity. That pungent smell is so terrible that one could vomit yesterday's dinner!

These corpses also fit the style of the Lansi family very well. They were injected with a large number of bullet heads after death; it's too recognizable!

The deputy chief being killed at home is absolutely a provocation to the federal police, a naked slap in the face!

Hunter knew about this immediately because the deputy chief was also his deputy, the deputy chief of the police station.

But after the rage, he actually found that he couldn't do anything!

He hammered the table hard, and the officers outside the door were so scared they didn't dare to make any sound.

"Bring all eyewitnesses back!"

Ten minutes later, they brought back a pile of eyewitnesses. Hunter personally watched the interrogation of these eyewitnesses. He also took the initiative to take out some photos, but these eyewitnesses didn't provide the results he wanted.

Yes, Lansi didn't participate in this retaliation, a matter of course.

He is a "boss" now, not a small character, with a pile of people waiting to work for him.

At this critical and tense moment, he couldn't be stupid enough to run and personally kill the deputy chief's family.

Hunter leaned on the chair decadently. Even if everyone knew that this matter was instigated by Lansi, they had no evidence!

Lansi is no longer a small character; framing him casually can work on him.

If you want to catch Lansi and send him to prison, you must have actual and effective evidence.

Hunter looked at the old photo on the table, and the police badge on his head was shining in the sun.

He had never been so dissatisfied with it as he was now.

It achieved him, but it also restricted him!

(End of chapter) ===== CHAPTER 514 =====