Chapter 958: The Dust Has Settled

“Director Gao”

“Mm, Xuewu, you’ve worked hard.”

Gao Zhen stood beside the car, nodded as Li Xuewu approached, and shook his hand.

After greeting Gao Zhen, Zheng Fuhua boarded the signal light command vehicle and began observing the scene through night-vision equipment.

Li Xuewu pursed his lips and scanned the surroundings; as he came from the other side of the street, he had already noticed the area was under lockdown.

Centered on Mingde Restaurant, lights blazed brightly, with several searchlights illuminating two buildings—one tall, one short.

The surrounding buildings had no lights on, no onlookers—clearly, all residents had been safely evacuated.

This street ran straight to the train station, so there were many buildings and a large population.

Whether due to the large-scale operation here or because they heard the gunshots, the outer perimeter was packed with people, all straining their necks in the cold night, waiting for a spectacle.

Several vehicles were parked along the street, completely surrounding the target buildings, their affiliations impossible to distinguish.

But Li Xuewu had spotted the vehicles of the Third Guard Regiment from his position by the roadside: three Grassland Tigers, each with sentries posted, presumably awaiting orders.

“How’s the situation?”

“Could not be worse.”

Gao Zhen shook his head slightly and gestured toward the signal light command vehicle: “Let’s go. Get in and talk.”

The signal light command vehicle was designed and manufactured by the Rolling Mill Factory as an emergency command vehicle.

It was tall, armored on the exterior, and had ample interior space capable of electronic surveillance, electronic jamming, temporary meetings, and field command operations.

After boarding, Li Xuewu sat near the door, choosing to listen rather than speak—he had no intention of adding his own words.

“Mingde Restaurant: a three-story brick-and-tile building, reinforced during the enemy-occupied period, with a large interior area.”

Zheng Fuhua stood at one end of the table, listening to field reconnaissance reports while asking questions and assigning tasks.

The rear door stood open; people occasionally left to relay orders.

“We can confirm now that Lai Yide is inside—we spotted him during our close reconnaissance.”

“And Lai Shanchuan.”

The Security Department officer clenched his teeth: “He’s currently on the rooftop of the adjacent building, holding a hostage—a night shift employee from the mall.”

“Let me say something.”

Yu Daru, seated to the side, spoke with a grave expression: “We tracked Lai Shanchuan here—they likely intended to reunite with his father, but we don’t know their purpose.”

“Also, they’ve already shot people—six of them.”

He pursed his lips and held up six fingers: “Including our own and the branch bureau’s investigators.”

Bang!

Ding!

As Yu Daru spoke, a loud collision sounded on top of the signal light command vehicle.

Li Xuewu looked up at the roof—unharmed. Good thing the designers hadn’t cut corners during construction; otherwise, it would’ve been a joke.

But he had no time to feel relieved—these kids were too brazen, daring to fire at a command vehicle.

The external guards grew tense, but those inside remained calm, though the atmosphere had grown heavy.

Gao Zhen glanced at Zheng Fuhua, who had fallen silent, then turned to Li Xuewu: “You have field command experience—what’s your assessment?”

“If we’re only considering operational feasibility, I don’t see any major issues.”

Li Xuewu tapped the map on the table: “Have both buildings been fully isolated?”

“Yes.”

The official assigned to security nodded quickly under the leader’s gaze: “Both buildings are isolated—our personnel are on-site.”

“Stay safe.”

Li Xuewu warned him, then continued: “Are there any underground tunnels connecting these buildings to other locations?”

“No—we’ve questioned the duty officers of both units.”

The Criminal Investigation lead confirmed: “Only front and back entrances, both now sealed.”

“Good. Now confirm the targets’ positions.”

Li Xuewu tapped the table: “Can we get the building blueprints—or can someone familiar with the layout sketch it out?”

“I’ll handle it.”

The Criminal Investigation lead jumped out of the vehicle, saying: “Give me a moment—they’re right inside the car.”

“Confirm the personnel categories.”

Li Xuewu looked around: “How many people are inside Mingde Restaurant? Besides Lai Yide, who are they? What weapons do they have?”

“No one else is on the mall rooftop where Lai Shanchuan is—why did he go there?”

“I’ll explain.”

Yu Daru rubbed his face: “Lai Yide had been staying here—Mingde Restaurant was seized by the Management Committee as confiscated property.”

“Lai Shanchuan’s target was also here, but he hadn’t entered when our sudden appearance disrupted him—he fled to the adjacent building.”

Yu Daru sighed in frustration: “It’s all because of that idiot security guard in the mall—he was blind as a bat!”

He muttered something angry under his breath; Li Xuewu didn’t catch it clearly.

Gao Zhen explained: when the Security Department moved to intercept Lai Shanchuan, he opened fire—and the mall guard mistook him for an ally.

To be fair, Lai Shanchuan’s outfit was intimidating, while the Security Department operatives were all in plainclothes.

The scene was chaotic: Lai Shanchuan fired during arrest, the guard fired in panic, and when Security Department officers returned fire, someone on the third floor of Mingde Restaurant also fired.

Had Lai Yide not fired first and revealed himself, our investigators still wouldn’t have known they were next door.

Lai Yide timed his shots perfectly, inflicting heavy casualties on the Security Department.

This sudden development forced Security Department personnel to retreat urgently and request higher-level support.

Lai Shanchuan, aided by the mall guard, showed no gratitude—he took him hostage and went to the rooftop.

The mall was four stories tall, one story higher than the adjacent restaurant, turning the rooftop into an isolated island and temporarily securing Lai Shanchuan’s position.

“Only Lai Shanchuan and the guard are on the mall rooftop. We don’t know how many are inside Mingde Restaurant—no one can approach, so no one knows how many they’ve deployed.”

Gao Zhen glanced at the small building under the night lights: “Conservatively, ten to fifteen people, seven or eight rifles.”

“No heavy weapons?”

Li Xuewu frowned slightly at Zheng Fuhua: “Are there explosives?”

“Uncertain—we’re still searching for clues, but it can’t be ruled out.”

Gao Zhen looked at Li Xuewu: “A few of them are excellent marksmen—likely connected to the intelligence you provided.”

“Ten to fifteen people, seven or eight rifles.”

Li Xuewu grimaced: “Even Hu Han-san didn’t go this far—what the hell does he want?”

“Unknown—we’re still investigating.”

Gao Zhen glanced at Yu Daru across from him—his meaning was clear: this case still falls to the Security Department to handle.

Yu Daru was now trapped—he’d thought Lai Shanchuan would be easy to handle, never expecting him to go this far.

He’d overpromised to his superiors, and now he could only report the truth.

Meanwhile, disciplinary investigators were already on-site, and the investigation faced no obstruction.

Gunfire near the train station—especially at night, multiple shots, multiple casualties—this was a major incident no one could suppress.

“I can only state one thing I’m certain of.”

The vehicle fell silent for over ten seconds before Yu Daru spoke seriously: “We can confirm Lai Yide’s actions are organized and intentional…”

The situation had grown complex. Li Xuewu frowned as he listened to Yu Daru’s explanation, his heart sinking.

The case was unfolding exactly as he had feared.

Lai Yide had somehow connected with someone, believed their nonsense, and planned to form a “Red Guard Corps,” seeking reform, autonomy, and some kind of takeover.

Li Xuewu listened in dread—no wonder Gao Zhen worried about explosives.

He didn’t need to doubt it—these brats would definitely have prepared such things.

He didn’t doubt the destructive power of their weapons—think where this is: even a fart here could trigger unpredictable political consequences, let alone gunfire.

Those few shots just now must have placed enormous pressure on Gao Zhen—he showed no sign of it to avoid adding stress to those present.

“What about their identities?”

Yu Daru looked at Li Xuewu: “Based on current evidence, they’re those so-called ‘comrades’—those brats.”

Li Xuewu didn’t doubt a word Yu Daru said—in this era, this time, you had no idea how wild those brats could get.

Light machine guns? They’d dare drag out artillery—heavy machine guns were standard.

Li Xuewu feared a heavy machine gun on the roof—even a light one would be unbearable.

It wasn’t that the Special Operations team couldn’t handle it—it was that once a machine gun opened fire, everyone would be out of a job.

“Lai Shanchuan just shouted to Mingde Restaurant—told his son not to fire randomly, and warned us not to harm his son.”

“Bullshit!”

Li Xuewu feigned anger: “The Third Guard Regiment’s Special Ops are here—they can storm in anytime. All enemies are paper tigers.”

He turned to Gao Zhen: “We have snipers—even in darkness, no problem. Take out Lai Shanchuan first, then clear Mingde Restaurant.”

Gao Zhen stared at Li Xuewu, seeing right through his game.

He didn’t believe Li Xuewu was reckless enough to risk explosives by ordering a direct assault on Mingde Restaurant.

His suggestion had only one purpose: to make Gao Zhen hesitate—to make him unwilling and afraid to continue with this case.

Gao Zhen was a seasoned veteran—how could he miss Li Xuewu’s maneuver? But now that things had reached this point, who could escape?

“You draft a plan first. I’ll think of other options.”

He first arranged for Li Xuewu, then addressed the group: “This matter is critical—avoid escalating the incident unless absolutely necessary.”

He glanced out the window and said: “Wait a moment—this shot we just took proves they’re desperate.”

Time and patience have their limits; Lai Shanchuan won’t hold out much longer, and neither will the people inside Mingde Building.

If we surround them and starve them for three days, they’ll all surrender.

But in this location, how could Gao Zhen possibly be given so much time? The case must be resolved as quickly as possible.

Don’t talk about waiting until dawn—since the first shot rang out, every minute counts.

Li Xuewu, having received Gao Zhen’s order, jumped out of the vehicle, glanced at Mingde Building—the spotlight was blinding; the people inside couldn’t easily look down.

But given his cautious nature, how could he walk openly into the line of fire?

So he paid no mind to others’ startled glances, circling around behind the vehicle toward the Weisan Regiment’s convoy.

Whether it was Lai Yide or Lai Shanchuan, if they knew he was on-site, their first choice for a sacrificial pawn wouldn’t be anyone else—it would be him.

Sometimes being hated is a kind of honor—who else but him had been upright and impartial, seeing through the false masks of that father and son?

“Comrade Leader”

Seeing Li Xuewu approach, the guard on duty beside Cao Yuanhu tiger saluted and greeted him.

Li Xuewu grabbed the man’s hand before he could complete the salute, pointed toward Mingde Building, and shook his head.

He then noticed Pazile getting out of the vehicle, patted his arm, and signaled him to speak inside.

The interior of the Cao Yuanhu was naturally smaller than a signal light, but still sufficient for operational needs.

The cabin could comfortably seat a full squad, with weapons and equipment placed in the center.

Li Xuewu boarded the vehicle; Pazile went to summon the squad leaders from the other two vehicles to meet in the first one.

“First Company here, Second Company behind the building.”

After boarding, Pazile sat down opposite Li Xuewu and, without preamble, laid out the forces deployed for today’s operation.

Li Xuewu nodded—deploying two companies likely reflected Zheng Fuhua’s concern over the dense urban layout and difficulty in containment.

“Report the on-site reconnaissance and the operational plan.”

“Yes.”

Pazile responded, then unfolded a hand-drawn map between them: “The closest external positions with the best firing angles are here…”

The Special Operations Team’s sweat and effort weren’t wasted—this heavy investment in equipment and resources had forged a truly capable emergency response unit.

The forces brought by the branch bureau outside were disorganized, with poor mobility and inadequate positioning.

But inside the vehicle, Li Xuewu observed the fully armed Special Operations Team members clad in black tactical gear—they were remarkably calm, showing no signs of tension.

Years of training, one moment of action—they’d trained enough. Through simulations and live drills, they knew exactly what to do even in their dreams.

“The situation is currently this.”

Pazile pointed to several positions: “Snipers, assault teams, support units, and the explosive ordnance strike group are all in place and ready to respond to any emergency.”

“Very comprehensive.”

Li Xuewu nodded, signaling Pazile: “You know my principles—pay attention to the building’s internal structure, avoid extreme scenarios.”

“Understood.”

Pazile certainly understood Li Xuewu’s principles: safety first, survival paramount.

“Then proceed.”

Li Xuewu opened the vehicle door and stepped out, standing to one side as the Special Operations Team members rapidly disembarked and formed ranks.

Fully armed in black tactical gear, the team moved from exit to assembly without any loud noise—commands given entirely through hand signals.

Since squad leaders had already received their combat assignments in the vehicle, after formation they quickly dispersed, advancing toward their designated objectives.

The black tactical uniforms vanished swiftly into the night; Pazile, in charge of command, held his radio handset, standing beside the vehicle, watching the target.

The team rapidly established containment; distant onlookers suddenly began murmuring—they had noticed this special unit.

Those with binoculars could faintly discern the unit’s uniqueness.

Their uniforms were unusual, their boots unusual, even their gear attachments were unusual—not to mention other equipment.

Li Xuewu tapped Pazile’s arm, signaling him to board; once Pazile and the on-site command personnel were inside, Li Xuewu pointed to the signal light, directing the driver to move the vehicle forward.

“I don’t need to reiterate obedience to command—remember, tonight’s operation demands extreme caution, extreme care.”

Li Xuewu pointed to several men in the vehicle: “Even if the mission fails, it’s acceptable—just don’t let extreme situations occur.”

“If a viable opportunity arises, don’t hold back—strike with full force!”

The more this case dragged in people, the stranger it became—Li Xuewu truly didn’t want to get involved.

No matter how well the Weisan Regiment performed, if any unexpected element emerged, the entire case would go off track.

This loss of control was precisely what Li Xuewu dreaded most—especially when high-ranking officials were involved.

Think about it: even Gao Zhen didn’t have the authority to sit and wait for news with them—he had to come to the front line to command. How high must the other party’s rank be?

The Cao Yuanhu stopped beside the signal light; the rear doors opened, and two vehicles linked for joint command.

Li Xuewu and Pazile got out; Li signaled Pazile to report the Special Operations Team’s readiness to Zheng Fuhua.

When he arrived, he’d seen Gao Zhen walk away; now he was speaking directly with Lai Shanchuan.

Li Xuewu carefully observed the scene through the bulletproof glass—Lai Yide in Mingde Building and Lai Shanchuan in the mall complemented each other.

Due to shooting and observation angles, with Lai Shanchuan overseeing from above, the option of a direct assault became far less viable.

The lights were bright; dark smudges lay near Mingde Building’s entrance—bloodstains left by investigators during the earlier gunfight.

Li Xuewu listened carefully to Gao Zhen’s conversation with Lai Shanchuan—it was useless.

Gao Zhen was Lai Shanchuan’s superior; Lai wouldn’t dare shoot at him.

Lai Yide, though reckless, still showed full respect for his father.

Especially when Lai Shanchuan was surrounded, Lai Yide, regardless of exposing his own hiding spot, opened fire directly.

Now Gao Zhen stood below the building, using a loudspeaker to lecture Lai Shanchuan on party discipline, leniency, and the current situation—formal, but ineffective.

It was like talking to a duck—Lai Shanchuan ignored all his rhetoric; his only demand: let his son go.

This location was close to the train station—he demanded Gao Zhen allow his son to board a train to Jinmen; once his son reached the sea, he’d accept any punishment.

Gao Zhen spoke policy precisely because Lai Shanchuan’s terms were naive—impossible to fulfill.

The only way out for father and son was to surrender and face trial.

Lai Shanchuan knew exactly what he’d done—and what his son had done. He wasn’t some ignorant fool; he knew their fate.

He might still have a sliver of hope—but his son had no chance at all.

Thus, Gao Zhen’s persuasion was useless; they were locked in a stalemate.

“Prepare for a forced breach—time’s up.”

Zheng Fuhua frowned, standing below the vehicle, watching the two men speak to Li Xuewu: “Arrange it—when Gao Ju returns, begin.”

“Yes.”

Li Xuewu signaled Pazile; he nodded and went to organize the assault team.

Assault team members carried bulletproof shields, pistols, Type 56 automatic rifles, submachine guns, and various grenades.

Their bulletproof vests were reinforced; their helmets were forged from special steel produced by the rolling mill—fully equipped.

Perhaps noticing the Special Operations personnel below, Lai Shanchuan changed his tone.

He no longer merely demanded things from Gao Zhen—he pushed the hostages to the building’s edge, threatening: don’t move.

The assault team ignored his threats, turning down the street into the alley between the two buildings and vanishing.

Of course they hadn’t disappeared—Lai Shanchuan knew the unit’s nature, and who had arrived.

“Li Xuewu! I know you’re here!”

Bang!

Lai Shanchuan grew agitated—he shouted Li Xuewu’s name, then fired a shot downward.

The random gunfire hit nothing, but startled Gao Zhen, who quickly retreated behind his bulletproof shield.

“No need to hide! I know what you’re planning!”

Lai Shanchuan shouted loudly: “Tell your men not to move—or I’ll die with you!”

Li Xuewu paid no attention to his threats—the people upstairs were mall security, not his Xiuxin—what nonsense.

Gao Zhen returned, frowning, and told Zheng Fuhua: “Too hasty—he still had more to say.”

“Time’s up.”

Zheng Fuhua heard the reproach in Gao Zhen’s voice, tapped his watch, and explained: “We must prevent him from stalling.”

“I know, I know.”

Gao Zhen now wanted to minimize the incident’s impact, but time and intense pressure left him little room.

“His coming here to expose Lai Yide’s position wasn’t for escape.”

Gao Zhen analyzed: “He wants to find Lai Yide to coordinate their stories, take all blame onto himself—he’s protecting Lai Yide.”

“If he voluntarily accepts responsibility—including for the murders—Lai Yide might escape punishment.”

“From his suicide attempt in the office, he probably left a suicide note.”

“What do we do?”

Zheng Fuhua frowned: “We can’t persuade him, and we can’t accept his terms—only a forced breach remains.”

Bang! Bang! Bang!…

As the three conferred, gunshots erupted one after another from above.

Not from Lai Shanchuan—from Mingde Building’s windows; Li Xuewu could see rifle barrels protruding.

Perhaps seeing Gao Zhen retreat, these young men grew impatient and wanted revenge.

But everyone on site was hiding behind cover; if he fired, it would only amplify the chaos and vent his anger.

The Special Operations Team showed remarkable restraint—without Li Xuewu’s order, they did not return fire. At this moment, the dark side of Mingde Building offered little room for the sniper to operate.

“What kind of damn organization! We refuse to accept this!”

After the gunfire, a chorus of shouts erupted—clearly from young, fiery voices, loud and defiant: “The empire my father built belongs to us now! What the hell are you?”

“Reform is wrong, oppose…”

……

The kids upstairs began chanting slogans one after another—all of them unbearable to hear.

It was obvious their grand, money-driven ideal was not just foolish—it was going to blow everything apart.

Gao Zhen’s face turned grim. He stared silently at Mingde Building, his inner conflict intense: should he order a forced assault?

The only problem with a forced assault: what about the hostages? What if they detonate?

Li Xuewu saw Gao Zhen’s hesitation and turned to Pazi le: “Ask the sniper if he can take out Lai Shanchuan.”

“Just replied—the angle isn’t good.”

Pazi le walked over and whispered: “Lai Yide is hiding behind the hostages. His counter-surveillance skills are strong.”

He’s been working for nearly thirty years—he’s reached that position. How could his professional skills not be sharp?

In China, protecting the hostages’ lives must always come first—no matter what.

But unlike the Russians, they eliminate the hostages first, then the terrorists.

“The sniper reported he can’t guarantee a one-shot kill.”

“Then distract him.”

Li Xuewu surveyed the scene and volunteered: “I’ll go talk to him. Make him move position.”

“Let me go—you’re not suitable.”

As Li Xuewu moved to step out, Zheng Fuhua grabbed his arm: “If you go, you’ll only provoke him further—it’ll hurt negotiations.”

Without giving Li Xuewu time to respond, Zheng Fuhua steadied his emotions and shouted: “Lai Shanchuan! What do you want?!”

As his voice carried out, Zheng Fuhua slowly stepped to the side of the vehicle and advanced toward Mingde Building.

From this angle, if Lai Shanchuan wanted to respond, he’d have to expose himself.

And moving toward Mingde Building, Zheng Fuhua also exposed himself to the guns of Lai Yide and the others.

“I have only one demand: spare Yide. He’s still young—he’s just a child!”

Lai Shanchuan clearly panicked—he realized he’d stirred up a hornet’s nest. Gao Zhen and the others wanted to avoid delay; he feared it too.

The greater the impact, the harder it would be for Lai Yide to escape—he might even die.

Gao Zhen frowned, gritted his teeth, and muttered under his breath that Lai Shanchuan was foolish. He signaled Li Xuewu: “Prepare for forced assault. Use Lai Shanchuan’s death as the signal.”

“Understood.”

Li Xuewu gave Pazi le a glance, then pointed at Zheng Fuhua, signaling him to arrange riot shields for immediate backup.

“You’ve been in this organization for decades. I won’t play games with you. If you still listen to me, I’ll tell you some hard truths.”

Zheng Fuhua’s hair was nearly all white; the night wind blew fiercely, making it flutter like snow under the lights.

His voice rang strong and firm: “Don’t entertain illusions. Today, I and Director Gao are here to resolve this. Don’t cling to your delusions.”

“Release the hostages upstairs. Come down, and I’ll talk with you and Lai Yide together. We can discuss anything.”

“There’s nothing to discuss. I’ve fulfilled my thirty years of duty.”

Lai Shanchuan’s voice carried despair. He crouched behind the rooftop parapet and shouted: “I know Li Xuewu is here. His Special Operations Team is formidable—they’re probably already climbing the building right now!”

As these words spread, Li Xuewu’s brow twitched slightly. The team members scaling the wall froze for a moment, then resumed their silent, catlike ascent.

Tonight’s weather was against them—no strong wind to mask sound, no clouds to obscure the moonlight. The operation faced added difficulty.

Climbing was a technical, dangerous task. The operators chose a corner of the building, carrying only a pistol, relying on surprise.

Now that Lai Shanchuan had exposed them, they had no choice—they were halfway up. Could they retreat?

Li Xuewu watched shadows shifting inside Mingde Building, his eyelids twitching uncontrollably. Fighting his own people felt unbearable.

Who could have imagined this secret weapon would one day be turned against Lai Shanchuan? The moment they met, the cover was blown.

“I admit he’s an excellent team leader—his investigative skills are even stronger!”

Lai Shanchuan’s tone suddenly grew intense: “I don’t hate you. Ever since you left voluntarily, I knew I shouldn’t.”

“It was me. I was blinded by madness!”

“It was me—greedy beyond measure. I planned every fraud, every murder. I forced Yide to do it all!”

“Yide! Don’t do anything stupid!”

Lai Shanchuan sensed his time was running out—Gao Zhen and Zheng Fuhua wouldn’t tolerate his antics much longer.

He’d seen Li Xuewu’s Special Operations Team train daily—he’d always sensed they were extraordinary, and now he knew it for certain.

The mall’s rooftop was an island, but too vast—he couldn’t guard it all alone.

Once someone climbed up, his single pistol couldn’t hold off more than a few.

Especially with snipers targeting him—he’d never get a chance to counterattack.

He ignored Zheng Fuhua’s shouts, instead speaking to himself, taking full blame—teaching Lai Yide what to say after arrest.

Claim he was coerced by his father, implicate someone else—he might not die after all.

This was the only option Lai Shanchuan could think of in this emergency.

Everyone on site understood—he was trading his life for his son’s.

Only one of them could live. The choice was painfully simple.

“Yide! Put down the gun and walk out. They won’t kill you. I planned everything. It has nothing to do with you!”

“No!”

Bang! Bang! Bang!

Lai Yide’s defiant voice answered, followed by a barrage of gunfire—purely out of rage.

Li Xuewu could hear the tremor in Lai Yide’s voice—he was crying. He understood what his father intended.

Father and son, bound by blood—even if their relationship had always been distant, at this moment, an unbreakable thread connected them.

He knew exactly what he’d done. He knew his father was taking the blame, cleaning up his mess.

His father had done this too many times before. As a child, he’d just get beaten. As he grew older, his father became busier, he grew more rebellious, and their communication dwindled.

Especially this past year, as the situation shifted, he felt like a man now—doing man’s work—and stopped listening to his father.

Each time he caused trouble, he thought he could fix it himself—but every time, his father stepped in.

The more his father helped, the more he felt constrained, deprived of freedom, even resentful of his father’s overbearing control.

He never noticed—didn’t realize when it started—that after helping him cover up his mistakes, his father rarely beat or scolded him anymore.

Lai Yide didn’t know what had changed, but something inside him felt off.

Youthful hearts are fickle—they always replace old sorrows with new ones.

Listening to his son’s voice, Lai Shanchuan stared at the rooftop parapet. He thought he heard the sound of climbing.

“Listen to your father one last time, Yide! You’re no match for them!”

Lai Shanchuan crouched beside the parapet, pulling a hostage slightly to the side to shield part of his view.

“Director Gao!”

He peered down, voice hoarse: “I did it alone. This case is entirely mine—”

“Position 3 reporting: firing angle confirmed. Authorization to shoot?”

“Position 5 reporting: firing angle confirmed. Authorization to shoot?”

……

As Lai Shanchuan was forced to shift position by the climbers, and as Zheng Fuhua pressed forward from below, his vulnerability became clear.

Of course, this might have been intentional—everyone knew he wanted to die.

To save his son, he had to die—die with no witnesses.

Pazi le held the radio, his voice transmitted to everyone in the command vehicle.

Li Xuewu shook his head slightly, ignoring Pazi le’s questioning gaze, and looked at Gao Zhen.

Standing so close, he didn’t believe Gao Zhen hadn’t heard. He couldn’t give the order to shoot.

Gao Zhen’s brow tightened. After repeated reports came through the radio, he gritted his teeth and said: “Authorize lethal force.”

“Understood!”

The instant Pazi le received the order, he shouted into the radio: “Authorize lethal force!”

Bang!

Bang!

Bang!

On the mall rooftop, Lai Shanchuan’s body jerked violently—his words cut short. Multiple bullets struck him.

Especially his head—Li Xuewu watched from afar; it looked like two shots hit there.

The gunfire was the signal. The climbers from both buildings rushed onto the rooftop and moved to secure the area.

“Dad! Dad!!!”

Lai Yide felt it—the moment his father’s voice was cut off by gunfire, he knew something was wrong.

Before he could react, the Special Operations Team members who had just reached the rooftop quickly deployed ropes.

A rope dropped from every window, and team members slid down swiftly.

Preparatory flare rounds were thrown through the shattered glass the moment the windows were kicked in.

Below, the action was even faster than upstairs—the assault team tossed smoke grenades, then rushed forward along the walls under bulletproof shields, reaching the door in moments.

No battering ram was needed; a single door-breaching charge instantly blew open the solid wooden door, flipping over even the barricades piled behind it.

Mingde Building had two exits—one front, one back—and from the second floor upward, assault teams stormed through every window.

Suddenly, Mingde Building blazed with light; the dark, tiger-like interior was illuminated by flashbangs as if priceless treasures had appeared, flashing outward from every window.

With each flashbang explosion, gunshots followed like popping beans—crackling, rapid-fire—clearly the special operatives were following Li Xuewu’s orders to prioritize survival.

Anyone standing armed would be shot on sight.

The moment the first gunshots rang out, Li Xuewu signaled the pre-positioned bulletproof shields to rush to support Zheng Fuhua.

Zheng Fuhua watched helplessly as Lai Shanchuan’s figure vanished from the rooftop, frozen in place.

He didn’t even notice the shields now guarding his front, still staring up at the roof.

The fact that he volunteered to step out and negotiate with Lai Shanchuan showed he truly wanted Lai to come down willingly, to talk.

Even Gao Zhen’s presence here was meant to bring Lai Shanchuan back to the precinct.

Today’s mistake is today’s mistake, but we must not forget the merits Lai Shanchuan once earned.

Who is born evil? Who is born wanting to be evil?

They wouldn’t say it was forced by circumstances, but seeing a former comrade driven to the brink, their hearts echoed the sorrow of a rabbit’s death making the fox grieve.

Li Xuewu never showed particular enthusiasm from the start—this was why.

Even if the case brought great credit, it was still about turning weapons on one’s own people—embarrassing to speak of, unpleasant to hear.

Gao Zhen stood beside the vehicle, posture rigid, face resolute, watching the gunfire erupt inside Mingde Building—his shoulders bore a weight of a thousand jin.

From the instant the kill order was given, the scope of this case was sealed.

Lai Shanchuan’s confidence in calling his son to surrender, his resolve to accept guilt and face death—this proved he had other arrangements.

Investigators reported he had stayed home for a long time—certainly not sleeping.

Gao Zhen didn’t know who he contacted, how he contacted them, and didn’t want to know who else this case might drag in.

Li Xuewu heard the gunfire inside Mingde Building thin out, the flashbangs’ effects fade, and flashlight beams begin to flicker within—he knew the operation was over.

He glanced at his watch; unconsciously, it was already dawn.

Pazile’s command center had advanced toward the target at the operation’s outset, especially the Grassland Tiger combat vehicle, which drove straight up to the building’s entrance.

More special operatives emerged from all around, swiftly storming into Mingde Building.

The entire three-story building would be searched without blind spots, ensuring no suspects or threats remained.

Crowds watching from afar had begun murmuring and stirring, but thanks to the precinct’s reliable force, no one rushed forward to gawk.

Don’t underestimate the Chinese people’s curiosity for spectacle—once seen, such a show would fuel their bragging for life.

After Pazile led his command team into Mingde Building, Li Xuewu climbed aboard the signal-light command vehicle.

He no longer cared what happened next at Mingde Building, found a random seat, lit himself a cigarette—celebrating that this case was finally drawing to a close.

Whether Lai Yide lived or died, the outcome of this case was now settled.

The only remaining uncertainties were these few points:

Why did Zhao Ziliang kill Zhang Shuqin?

Why did Lai Yide kill Zhao Ziliang?

Where did Lai Yide hide Zhao Ziliang’s body?

Lai Yide assembled this group armed with guns and explosives—what exactly did he intend to do?

After his son became involved in the Great Study unrest, why did Lai Shanchuan show leniency?

Who stood behind them?