Chapter 117 - 117 115 Don't Dissect Me

Words : 1565 Updated : Sep 17th, 2025

117: Chapter 115: Don’t Dissect Me 117: Chapter 115: Don’t Dissect Me “Cuff him. Drop the gun, drop it,” Wei Zhenguo, being older, didn’t have the adrenaline surge as quickly as Wen Ming. Falling two body-lengths behind over a distance of nearly ten meters, he shouted urgently. Wen Ming, with his blood running hot, didn’t care for caution. First, he forcefully twisted Hu’s arm, then kicked away his gun. Just as he was about to reach for handcuffs, Wei Zhenguo caught up. “Cuff him, cuff him first,” Wei Zhenguo clacked the cuffs onto Hu from behind, then flipped him over, only to see a hole in Hu’s chest, blood gushing out, and the man was clearly breathing more out than in. Still in the throes of action, Wen Ming was pressing down hard on Hu’s neck with his elbow, embodying the posture of one ready to “tear apart tigers and leopards barehanded.” “He’s dying, let go, let go!” Wei Zhenguo slapped Wen Ming’s arm hard and pulled him away. In such a tense moment, actions are instinctual, with no time for careful thought. The situation was akin to the last minute of a middle school or high school exam when you realize you haven’t written your name or have copied the answers onto the wrong sheet, and you’re 80 percent certain the teacher will collect the papers on time. What do you do first, and what do you do later? For Wen Ming, Wei Zhenguo, and Jiang Yuan, it was time to make crucial decisions. Mu Zhiyang had been shot twice, and due to blood loss and fear, he had already passed out. “Block the bleeding, don’t move him. I’ll be right there.” Jiang Yuan had stuffed two rolls of bandages into his pockets when he left. Now, he took them out and wrapped Mu Zhiyang’s shoulder tightly before checking the wound. A large chunk of flesh had been torn from the inner side of his left arm, but Jiang Yuan breathed a sigh of relief. Luckily, if the shooter had aimed just two centimeters to the left, Mu Zhiyang would have been dead for sure. Now, it was nothing more than a flesh wound. The first to arrive as reinforcements were armed police, two of them holding rifles and running for two or three hundred meters. When they arrived and saw no one standing, their hearts skipped a beat, and they loaded their weapons. “Put on the safety catch, it’s over, the crook’s been shot.” Worried that the nervous armed policemen might accidentally fire their weapons, Wei Zhenguo quickly reminded them, then shouted into the radio, “It’s over. The ringleader’s been shot and is down, Mu Zhiyang’s been shot again; call an ambulance.” “Shot again?” On the other side of the radio, Huang Qiangmin’s heart which had just settled, now leaped three inches above his head in a tense spasm, “How could he be shot again... What’s the situation? The ambulance is on its way!” “It was a shootout, it’s hard to say right now,” what else could Wei Zhenguo say? He didn’t want to trade life for life either, but the situation had come to this. “You two come over and help.” Jiang Yuan called out, beckoning the two armed policemen over. The two armed policemen were very young, having run from the nearby parking lot. There was originally a six-person team there, in case the gang of five realized they were ambushed and tried to break through to the cars. With the news that the leader had broken out, the parking lot team leader only dared to send two as reinforcement. This wave of policemen had always anticipated they were fighting a five-man enemy, not expecting the arrest of the other four to go so smoothly, nor foreseeing that the leader’s escape route would be so decisive and different from their expectations. “Hold pressure on the wound, don’t move it,” Jiang Yuan said, with no needles or medication at hand; this was the best immediate arrangement he could make. After wiping his hands on his clothes, he rushed to Wei Zhenguo’s side. Hu’s lungs must have been punctured, his breathing was haggard, the look in his eyes dim, but his expression was still one of indifference. Jiang Yuan still wrapped Hu’s chest with bandages and then had Wen Ming apply pressure, after which he checked for other injuries. At a glance, it seemed like Hu had been hit by four or five bullets, perhaps seven or eight. Mu Zhiyang got shot the moment he was in sight; it wasn’t clear if rifle 05 had even fired, and the remaining three had discharged all 21 rounds without care if the target had fallen or not. The ringleader was bleeding profusely, and Jiang Yuan had a hard time discerning the location and type of wounds. For the living, his options were limited; he still resorted to the one-size-fits-all bandage wrap. Wrapping bandages on a crook seemed pretty reasonable, after all. After managing a few of the more heavily bleeding spots, the second wave of reinforcements arrived, this time consisting of four detectives. Compared to the two young armed police soldiers, the detectives looked much older and heavier but were experienced. On seeing the situation, they knew what was going on. Two of them came forward to help, one started contacting the others on the walkie-talkie, and another began to set up yellow police tape to mark off the area. By this time, Jiang Yuan had finally relaxed and returned to Mu Zhiyang’s side. Hu’s life and death were crucial to the case, but Mu Zhiyang was more important. Perhaps it was the growing noise around him that caused Mu Zhiyang to twitch his eyelids and struggle to open his eyes. The first thing that he saw was Jiang Yuan. Mu Zhiyang’s expression softened, but then he was awakened by intense pain, and soon after, he began to murmur in terror, “Don’t cut anymore, I’m still alive, I’m still alive.” “What?” Jiang Yuan couldn’t hear clearly and leaned his head closer. Mu Zhiyang said with a sorrowful face, “Don’t perform an autopsy on me...” “No one’s performing an autopsy on you, it’s not time yet.” Jiang Yuan was amused and chuckled, but the laughter quickly faded from his face. If it hadn’t been for that sniper, he might really have been preparing to perform an autopsy on Mu Zhiyang’s body. If they had been unlucky, that is. “The ambulance is here, let’s get to the hospital first.” Wei Zhenguo came over, his clothes already drenched in blood. Seeing Wei Zhenguo stabilized Mu Zhiyang’s emotions considerably, and he finally had the opportunity to ask, “Where am I injured?” “You’ve torn a piece of flesh from your left arm; don’t touch it.” Wei Zhenguo pried his hand away and added, “You’ve got some abrasions on your chin from the brick wall and were bleeding, but it’s stopped on its own now, not so serious. You understand, right? Just relax and head to the hospital.” Looking pitifully at Jiang Yuan, Mu Zhiyang joked, “If it’s nothing serious, then don’t let Jiang Yuan apply bandages on anyone, really. My heart was scared to a stop.” “Got it, got it,” Wei Zhenguo placated him like a child as he lifted Mu Zhiyang onto a stretcher and then into the ambulance. The ambulances had been contacted in advance, two in total, and both were fully utilized this time; one took Mu Zhiyang, the other took Hu, speeding towards the town hospital. “How long till the doctor arrives?” Jiang Yuan followed and got into Mu Zhiyang’s ambulance, asking Wei Zhenguo sitting opposite him. Wei Zhenguo was checking his WeChat and looked up to answer, “Doctors from Qinghe City First Hospital are on their way. About two hours, I guess. Mu Zhiyang is probably all right. Whether the thief boss can last that long, well, that depends on how tough his own luck is.” Jiang Yuan glanced at Mu Zhiyang, who had once again fallen into a slumber, and said, “Handle it in town for 2 hours without dying, then the thief boss won’t die either.” “Yeah, if he dies, it’s his own fault. If they had come at a fixed time, we would have been ready with personnel. He picked the day; no one could have had doctors on standby for him,” said Wei Zhenguo, pushing off responsibility, yet his mood was still somewhat tense. Suddenly no one in the ambulance spoke, leaving only the beeping of the monitor, making everyone’s thoughts feel more disquieted. Today was destined to be a day filled with unrest. There were people to interrogate, new leads to follow, and Liu Jinghui should be on his way here. But even for him, this case might be quite overwhelming. Only now, looking at the unconscious Mu Zhiyang lying before him, did Jiang Yuan start to feel a bit of fear afterward. He had been too busy being tense before. Once he calmed down, he realized his back was drenched in sweat, his limbs felt weak, and he almost wished he could lie down beside little Mu. His heart was throbbing loudly, as if it was working hard to keep up.

Chapter 117 - 117 115 Don't Dissect Me

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