A madman in France? How come he's always at crime scenes!

The last time Fang Lue drove this fast was when he visited the military base during his university years, and he raced with his senior classmates on the training ground.

The hood of the beat-up taxi had begun to tremble, but the steering wheel was firmly in his hands, and the pointer on the instrument panel swung past 140 and was still veering to the right.

The black SUV in front had no taillights. The entire vehicle was swallowed by the night, its outline only visible when the car bumped along.

The strategy is to push the high beams all the way up.

He had no concept of fear in his mind, and he didn't even think about what to do if he caught up.

There was only one thought in my mind: I couldn't let this guy get away!

The SUV suddenly turned right.

The tires screeched as the car veered off the road and plunged into a dirt track at an angle.

Fang Lue subconsciously turned the steering wheel, and the taxi chassis made a muffled thud.

There were no streetlights on the dirt road, the surface was compacted yellow soil, and there were waist-high cornfields on both sides.

When the high beams shone out, all you could see was the dust kicked up by the car in front, clumps of it flying up onto the windshield.

Fang Lue shifted gears with his right hand and pulled the steering wheel back with his left. The rear wheels slid halfway down the side, but he slammed the accelerator back on.

This is the kind of driving technique that driving schools never teach.

The SUV sped up faster and faster ahead. This kind of road was its home turf, while the taxi from Fanglue was starting to act strangely.

The chassis was hit again, this time with a crisper sound, and a red light appeared on the instrument panel.

But Fang Lue did not slow down at all. In the distance ahead of the SUV, a road stretched across the dirt road.

I vaguely remember this road. I walked this road when I came to Shuangtang last time. It's a one-way street with a reservoir on the other side.

Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed a faint trail left by a tractor in the middle of the cornfield on the right.

Fang Lue gritted his teeth, turned the steering wheel all the way to the right, and the taxi immediately rushed into the cornfield.

The stalk struck the windshield repeatedly, snapping against the bumper, while the leaves scraped against the side windows.

Fang Lue poked half his head out, searching for the off-road vehicle's headlights through the swirling fallen leaves.

I saw it.

There's a sharp bend ahead; the off-road vehicle must slow down to get out of this cornfield.

He was walking in a straight line.

Judging by the distance, the SUV's headlights were moving from the left. Getting closer and closer, until I could even hear its engine roaring.

Fang Lue floored the accelerator.

The moment the SUV turned onto the road—

The taxi sprang out of the cornfield, crashed through the last bush, and headed straight for the right rear door of the SUV.

boom! ! !

With a loud crash, the taxi's front bumper rammed into the SUV's rear wheel arch, the collision of the two pieces of metal sending sparks flying everywhere.

Fang Lue wasn't wearing a seatbelt, and his chest slammed against the steering wheel, making it hard for him to breathe.

The SUV was hit and shifted halfway to the side, but it did not overturn. The driver swerved sharply, and the two vehicles separated.

Fang Lue struggled to lift his head and saw the rear window of the SUV rolled down.

A dark, gaping gun barrel was visible.

A flame lit up.

……

The gunshot rang out at 9:57 p.m.

At 10:03, the Criminal Investigation Detachment of Feishui City Public Security Bureau received a request for assistance from the Criminal Police Brigade of Chuanhe District.

At 10:47, Zhou Jianguo, the head of the Criminal Investigation Corps of the Provincial Public Security Department, was woken up by a phone call and then dialed the phone of the deputy director in charge of criminal investigation.

At 6:35 a.m. the following day, the "9.15" task force was officially established.

Zhou Jianguo was appointed as the team leader, and Meng Jiang, the deputy head of the Second Detachment of the Criminal Investigation Corps, was specifically requested to join the team. He was from Feishui City, had extensive experience, and had received three third-class merit awards.

When the news of the establishment of the special task force came, Zhao Anmin was pacing back and forth in the corridor of Feishui People's Hospital.

He hung up the phone and turned to look at the red light shining at the entrance to the operating room.

Sun Jin sat on a plastic chair, his elbows resting on his knees, staring blankly at the floor.

When he returned from completing the formalities at the Municipal Bureau, Fang Lue had already been wheeled into the operating room.

"The provincial department has been officially established," Zhao Anmin said.

Sun Jin raised his head.

"Zhou Jianguo is personally in charge. Lao Meng is bringing his men; they're expected to arrive around eight o'clock."

Sun Jin didn't speak, but shifted his gaze to the closed operating room door at the end of the corridor.

The bullet pierced the deltoid muscle. It didn't damage the bone, but the soft tissue damage area was significant.

Fortunately, there was no danger to his life.

When Fang Lue was wheeled out of the operating room, the anesthesia had not completely worn off, but he was already conscious, with his right arm wrapped in thick gauze and slinged across his chest.

The nurse wheeled him into the ward. Fang Lue looked up and saw Zhao Anmin and Sun Jin. His first words were:

"Damn it, Captain Zhao, that bastard has a gun in that car."

Seeing his expression, Zhao Anmin breathed a sigh of relief: "I know."

Fang Lue was still complaining, "If I had gone any faster, I could have hit his front wheel and made sure that guy couldn't have gotten away."

"If you had been any faster," Wu Liang's voice came from the ward door, "you might be lying in the forensic doctor's office right now."

Fang Lue turned his head and saw Wu Liang walk into the ward, his pants covered in dried blood.

He chuckled twice.

"How is Shen Xuejun?"

"He's in the ICU, his condition is very bad, whether he survives depends on the next day or two."

Wu Liang sighed and sat down next to Fang Lue's hospital bed.

"You're reckless! Just follow along, and you almost lost your life. Was it worth it?"

Sun Jin finally spoke up: "Anyone would give chase. Wearing these uniforms, we couldn't just watch the suspect's car drive right past us."

A series of footsteps echoed down the corridor.

The door was pushed open, and two people came in.

The man in front was muscular, and behind him was a woman with short, ear-length hair. She was about twenty years old and had delicate features, but the heroic spirit in her eyes was no less than that of the veteran detective.

Zhao Anmin stood up and extended his hand: "Old Meng, you're here."

Meng Jiang shook hands with Zhao Anmin without exchanging any pleasantries. "Chief Zhou asked me to bring a team to assist you. This is Li Mu, a criminal investigation technician from our branch."

Li Mu's gaze swept from Fang Lue on the hospital bed to Wu Liang, who was covered in blood, and finally back to Fang Lue's sling.

She pulled an evidence bag from her pocket, inside which was a badly deformed bullet.

"It was taken out of the A-pillar of the taxi."

She handed the evidence bag to Zhao Anmin.

"A lead-core jacketed bullet. The projectile becomes severely unstable upon impact with metal, and the tail section explodes. This thing is quite lethal at close range."

After saying that, he looked at Fang Lue and added a sentence.

"You're lucky to have survived."

Wu Liang raised an eyebrow beside him.

This woman speaks bluntly, just like her hair.

"Can the origin of the gun be traced?"

"Modified. It's very likely that a homemade barrel was used," Li Mu said, then turned to Meng Jiang, who had been silent all along. "Team Leader Meng, based on the ballistic characteristics and the remaining cartridge cases, this gun is probably not a first-time use; it's likely from an underground workshop."

Zhao Anmin looked at Meng Jiang: "Old Meng, you're familiar with the Shuangtang area. Are there any leads on similar illegal workshops there?"

Meng Jiang shook his head, his gaze falling on Wu Liang: "Is the blood on your clothes Shen Xuejun's?"

"Um."

Were there any other people present at the time?

"No. The shutter door was half-closed. The murderer was already inside before we arrived; he came out just as we got out of the car."

Meng Jiang nodded and took the bullet from Zhao Anmin:

"We've checked the surveillance footage at all the checkpoints along the route. We should be able to pinpoint the direction by tonight at the latest."

Thanks.

Meng Jiang led Li Mu a few steps outside, stopped at the door, and turned to look at Wu Liang: "You're Wu Liang?"

"Yes."

"Old Zhao mentioned you to me," Meng Jiang said with a hint of admiration, "that case in Tongcheng where they acquitted someone of manslaughter. I've read the case file."

Wu Liang stood up.

"Did Shen Xuejun say anything to you? Anything that might point to his identity?"

He said he offended someone back then, and before he lost consciousness, he kept muttering the word "tán".

Meng Jiang nodded, noted the information, and then led Li Mu out the door.

"We'll contact you again later. This case is significant, and we'll need to contact you again if needed."

Zhao Anmin and Sun Jin got up and saw the two out, leaving only Wu Liang and Fang Lue in the ward.

"Attorney Wu, this girl looks like a tough character..."

Fang Lue clicked his tongue and muttered a complaint to Wu Liang in a low voice.

"Come on, you've just escaped with your life, and you still have the mind to look at pretty girls?"

"Hehe, work is work, and life is life..."