?Mobile reading For the two close friends' decision, Fang Fei felt quite helpless. Actually, she also thought her brother-in-law's gun-handling was very handsome and masculine, and believed that choosing him as a boyfriend would surely bring her a strong sense of security. All six people who were shot were hit in the legs. The rest of the attendees scattered in panic, many of whom began to complain about their parents' expectations, wondering why they hadn't been born with two extra legs so they could run faster. The security staff were equally shaken, several of them hiding in the security office at the main entrance, their legs trembling constantly, hoping the police would arrive as soon as possible. Fei, taking advantage of Qin Feng's distraction, reached into her pants pocket and sent out a message without looking. "Now tell me," Qin Feng asked, "who exactly came here to cause trouble?" Everyone's fingers were now pointing at Fei, and in the current situation, loyalty had become completely worthless—survival was the only priority. Fat Madame was first taken aback—she never expected these folks, so fiercely loyal to their own, to betray her so quickly. But recalling the message she had just sent, she immediately felt confident and smirked, saying, "Kid, I'm telling you don't act too cocky. The police will be there soon. If you dare to shoot someone, you'll end up in jail—trust me, you'll be stuck there until you die." "Really?" Qin Feng gave a cool, thoughtful smile. "Don't you think that since I'm willing to fire a gun, I must have some backing behind me?" "Hah! What's the point of intimidating anyone? You're clearly a weakling—someone I've seen plenty of in my time!" Fat Madame grew even more assertive. "You may have some connections, but mine are stronger. Show me you can shoot me again, and I'll make sure you're dead." As a distant relative of the Wu family, Fat Madame knew well that besides Wu Chaozhi and Chen Jinzhong, both of them had powerful figures behind them. Given the timeline, that prominent figure must have already been made aware of the situation—how could he not intervene? "As you wish!" Qin Feng casually raised the gun, pressed the trigger with his index finger, and a bullet shot forth. The plump woman watched in horror as the same blood holes appeared on the other leg, immediately emitting a pig-like wail of agony—only for the sound to be cut short as she gasped, her voice silenced by sheer shock. After all, she had clearly seen the gun barrel aimed directly at her head. "Hmm. In this world, people who lack self-awareness are simply too numerous," said Qin, the young man, as he stepped home, calmly pouring himself a cup of coffee. The police arrived only when the coffee was down to half. A group of about a dozen officers arrived with the urgency of a crisis, conducting a preliminary assessment. They found the group divided into two units—one squad maintaining a steady line of fire at Qin's front door, the other tasked with securing the injured. The plump ladies, despite their severe pain, went on at length about what had happened earlier, embellishing their stories—something they were especially skilled at, and never failed to do in critical moments. One officer signaled to his colleague beside him, indicating he should go knock on the door. The latter struggled to swallow a lump in his throat, unwilling to volunteer for such a death-defying task. But since his superior had ordered it, he had no choice but to proceed. As he took a step forward, the door opened from inside, and Qin Feng stood there holding a coffee cup. "Stay where you are! Raise your hands and kneel down—otherwise, we'll fire!" His sudden appearance only heightened the anxiety of the officers, who were already feeling uncertain. Anyone could see that the homeowner was armed with a potentially deadly weapon; if a confrontation broke out, who could be sure the bullets would miss them? Qin, the young lord, smiled pleasantly and raised his coffee cup. "I have no weapon with me," he said. "You may rest assured." "Fat Madame shouted sharply, 'It's him! He's callously killed my nephew and cousin by crushing them with a blast of fire. He also fired shots at us. You hurry and kill him—such a piece of trash doesn't deserve to live. What are you waiting for?' Qin Feng barked, 'Fat Madame, if you don't want to die, shut up! Don't think because the police have arrived that I can't handle you. Since you know Wu Tianyu and Chen Sicheng, take a moment to reflect—do you really think your life is stronger than theirs?' Fat Madame had originally prepared to fight the 'powerful forces' to the very end, but then realized that Wu and Chen were both out of reach, let alone her—so it was safer to just stay quiet. 'Did you hear me say to raise your hands and kneel down?' the lead officer asked for the second time. Qin Feng spoke calmly, 'I'm holding a cup in my hands—how can I raise both arms? Someone please come and help me. This cup is very valuable—supposedly used by Emperor Qianlong, worth a fortune.' "A whole bunch of police officers are ready to drop from exhaustion. How could Emperor Qianlong possibly use an European-style coffee cup? If you're lying, at least come up with a plausible reason—how much more embarrassing can it get? The lead police officer strode over in three or four steps, snatched the cup from him, and then slammed it to the ground. 'This is the very cup Emperor Qianlong used!' he shouted. 'Crash!' The delicate white porcelain cup shattered into pieces. For the third time, the officer commanded, 'Raise your hands, then kneel!' Qin Feng looked sadly at the scattered fragments of porcelain, shook his head, and said, 'You simply can't afford to make this up. Think carefully—whom can you possibly borrow money from? Also, your police have no authority over our internal security affairs. Are you really sure you want me to raise my hands?' 'Internal security?' the officer was taken aback. Qin, the young gentleman, gestured toward his chest pocket. 'The credentials are right there. Will you take them yourself, or shall I hand them over to you?' 'Cut the chatter! Hand them over right now. I'd prefer you to be honest. Otherwise, The captain's tone had begun to waver, his mind already working through a plan: if the other side truly were internal security officers, what then? Before coming here, he had received a phone call from his superior, who had instructed him to remain firm in his enforcement stance and absolutely not let go of the suspect who had been shot. Though the instructions sounded straightforward at first, they carried a deeper, more subtle meaning—no need for explicit elaboration. Don't think we police can't handle you—what about the military? They can surely manage you. I'll be calling the military command right away. At this point, the best strategy is to shift the pressure to the military, handing over the handling authority to them—this is a solid move.