?Mobile reading Shu Ya Jing stepped forward suddenly, shouting at the five people who were rushing Zhou Mingchu and Li Yu toward the car, "All of you—stop right there!" The four people looked at her, surprised to see such a beautiful woman, and couldn't help but smile: "Now that we've got someone who's come willingly, let's bring her in too—come on, Xiao Wu, grab her!" One of them produced handcuffs from his waist and walked toward Shu, the policewoman. "Be careful, Xiao Jing," Zhou Mingchu called out. Though he knew his niece was a police officer by training, he also understood that two hands could never hold off four—these guys were desperate, and when things got physical, it wasn't guaranteed that either side would come out unscathed. This time, it was the policewoman who laughed. After years of handling handcuffs with ease, he was now holding them out in front of her like he was trying to make a point—wasn't that just asking for it? Before the other person could even move, Shu sidestepped and delivered a powerful kick. The straight, elegant legs shot out like lightning, striking the man with the handcuffs square in the jaw. Completely unprepared, he felt his head explode with a roar as his body collapsed backward uncontrollably. His handcuffs flew off into the air as well. "Houzi, you go," the leader in black glasses called out. The second man was highly skilled, wielding a sturdy pole, launching a relentless barrage of attacks—Shu, the policewoman, clearly found herself struggling. Zhou Mingchu groaned internally. After all, his niece had finally arrived to lend a hand, offering him a glimmer of hope—yet that hope now seemed to be fading. He hadn't noticed that when Shu Yajing first appeared, Li Yu had been especially tense—now, however, she was calm, even smiling faintly, with a composed, half-smiling expression. Shu's grasp of the擒拿 technique failed as the opponent swiftly spun around, swinging her iron pole with force directly toward her shoulder. The pole whistled through the air—should the impact land, her collarbone would surely be compromised. Shu Ya Jing quickly stepped aside, but it was too late—though she avoided her shoulder, her arm still couldn't escape. Just as the moment seemed to hang in the balance, a sharp gunshot rang out. Thud… Then… The iron pole first sparked, then flew sideways. Hu Zi, the man who had been holding it, now had almost numb hands, as the bullets fired from Qin Feng’s pistol carried immense force. Thud, thud, thud—three consecutive shots, each striking a different person in the legs. They all collapsed to the ground, leaving only the leading man still gripping Zhou Mingchu’s shirt collar. The assailant leading the group hid behind Zhou Mingchu, now holding a dagger pressed against his neck and shouting in a loud, strained voice, "You stay back! Don't fire your guns—otherwise, I'll kill him right here!" When the gunfire occurred, Qin Feng had ample time to deliver a shot to this man, yet he deliberately chose not to—his intention was to make Zhou Mingchu suffer. The sound of the shots drew several people's attention, but no one dared approach. This wasn't just a car accident where everyone rushed in to watch the spectacle—those who were truly fearless and willing to risk their lives were the ones who came close. If a single bullet struck someone and took their life, who would they turn to for justice? As the situation began to shift decisively in Zhou Mingchu's favor, he grew confident and declared firmly, "You'd better not act rashly. Your men are all injured and out of action. It's best that you surrender now. You should know well that the police never compromise with robbers. If you choose to hold me hostage, there's only one outcome—your death." Li Yu stood there nervously, and Shu Ya Jing pulled him over, then scolded, "What are you doing here? Can you even save anyone?" Li Yu was too stunned to speak, his eyes constantly scanning toward Zhou Mingchu. This gave Shu Ya Jing some comfort—though the woman was unprincipled, she clearly cared about her uncle. Qin Feng smiled coldly at the man with the black glasses, "What this gentleman says isn't exaggerating at all. I'll give you five seconds to put down your knife—or you'll die a painful death!" As he counted, he raised his pistol again, aiming at Zhou Mingchu's side of the face, since the man with the glasses was behind him and could only be hit there. The elder gentleman appeared composed, yet his heart was pounding with fear. He thought: what if the young man's bullet missed by just a few centimeters—then it would be me who would fall. Earlier in the mall, he had looked down on Qin Feng, mocked him, and even tried to separate the two of them. Could it be that the young man, now, was holding a grudge and would take the chance to kill both him and the robbers? Though he didn't know the exact model of the gun in Qin Feng's hands, he was well aware that at such close range, a bullet could easily pass through a person's body and strike someone behind, creating what's known as "stringing the holly hollies." If such a scenario truly unfolded, Qin Feng would be entirely blameless—since he had shot and killed the robbers, aligning perfectly with police protocol. But Zhou Mingchu's death would feel rather unjust. At best, he might receive a posthumous honor as a hero. Yet once the person was gone, no amount of recognition would make any difference. In front of his niece and the third wife, he felt even more embarrassed to say something like, "Everyone, calm down—let's have a peaceful conversation." "Three…" Qin Feng counted, pausing for a second. "Two…" At that moment, the assailant shouted, "For heaven's sake! Even if we surrender, we'll still be sentenced to fifteen to twenty years—better to go out with a bang. At least we'll have someone to take the fall!" "One!" A flash of golden light erupted as the word "one" was spoken—no gunshot, but a brilliant golden streak. The blade, spinning through the air, came from the side and struck the man wearing glasses right at the neck, its edge lodged precisely between his two cervical vertebrae—the vital junction where the spinal cord connects to the brain. Once severed, the victim would instantly lose consciousness and die. The man wearing glasses released his grip, and the dagger fell to the ground. Since his arm was resting against Zhou Mingchu's shoulder, he did not collapse. Qin Feng retracted his pistol, turned around, and smiled at Shu, the young officer, saying, "How about this? A real masterstroke of feinting and striking at the vital point—pretty solid, wouldn't you say?" "Talk about a lackluster performance! You were clearly aiming to fool us all along," Shu began to complain. He pretended to be puzzled, "What do you mean 'on purpose'? I simply don't understand." "Stop acting! I'd never have missed your intentions," Shu gave him a withering look, then walked toward her uncle, Zhou Mingchu. Indeed, Qin Feng had been deliberate. If he wanted to dispatch the robbers with his flying knives, he could have simply drawn them—why go through the trouble of raising his pistol and then counting down for five seconds? It was simply unnecessary.