National Forensic Doctor-Chapter 1093 - 1024: Seeing the Gun

Mu Zhiyang followed Jiang Yuan out to survey the scene, so he carried very little equipment. In his single police backpack, there were only standard tools like a baton, handcuffs, a stun stick, and pepper spray. Fortunately, he habitually carried a Type 92 pistol, and this time, he picked it up without hesitation.

Seeing the gun in Mu Zhiyang’s hand, the two technical officers immediately felt somewhat relieved, though their tension quickly ramped up again.

The person entering might very well be linked to organized crime, possibly a suspect forced back to this den due to a police sweep. In such a situation, holding a gun seemed entirely reasonable, didn’t it?

And then...

Shootout in a confined space? Everyone here had some training in ballistics, and even if their scores were lousy, they should understand—this is absolutely a gamble with life. In such an environment, low-power bullets can ricochet, while high-power bullets could penetrate bodies, furniture, even walls. Even if not directly hit, fragments of objects shattered by the bullet could spray onto anyone, possibly causing death or injury.

Shen Yaowei followed closely behind and also pulled out a Type 92.

Carrying a gun is a hassle. In China, it’s more common for police officers not to carry firearms. Only detectives from major-case squads or anti-narcotics officers typically carry firearms daily.

However, since Shen Yaowei shot and killed a drug lord with three bullets last time, earning Jiang Yuan’s favor, he had developed the habit of carrying a gun.

If the boss likes it, what’s a little extra trouble?

Moreover, Jiang Yuan’s Accumulated Case Team was attached to the Ningtai County Criminal Police Team, so their work went smoothly, almost like having certain privileges. On the flip side, getting a Type 92 pistol wasn’t easy; it even required Huang Qiangmin pulling some strings.

Two pistols, one in the lead and one behind, aimed left and right at the room’s entrance.

Jiang Yuan was pushed by Mu Zhiyang behind the left-hand wall, the safest spot. Even if a shootout occurred, Jiang Yuan could be protected to the greatest extent.

The two technical officers didn’t have such good fortune. In the hierarchy of the criminal police, tasks like scene surveying and trace inspection fell to technical officers. However, if the detectives were swamped with work, pulling a technical officer for assistance was entirely normal.

So, when facing criminals or capturing them, detectives believe it’s indeed their responsibility but also the technical officers’ duty. Since they’re all police officers, naturally they shouldn’t leave the detectives alone at the frontlines.

With no time to grab more equipment, the two technical officers each picked up a round stool, holding it to their chests, ready to block bullets or bash someone if necessary.

Squeak...

A middle-aged man wearing a mask pushed open the door.

His left hand rested on the doorknob, while his right hand carried a plastic bag, a pair of sunglasses dangling from his fingers. Slightly lowering his head, he looked defensively into the room.

In front of him, staring him down were two guns, black and straight, pointed directly at him. On either side of the guns stood two men wielding round stools.

Most striking of all, all four of them were dressed in police uniforms!

The middle-aged man’s expression shifted from calm to strange.

Countless thoughts flashed through his mind like lightning until a commanding voice snapped him out of it.

"Don’t move! Police!" Mu Zhiyang barked the classic phrase.

"Police." Shen Yaowei jerked his gun slightly, appearing genuinely ready to shoot.

Had this been ten years ago, the middle-aged man might have slowly knelt down, surrendered, and lamented the unfairness of fate.

But he was no longer the man he was a decade ago.

Having been to prison twice, the man knew very well that Chinese police hesitated to fire recklessly.

Firing a gun carried significant consequences. Without an emergency situation, most officers wouldn’t dare take on that responsibility. And criminals escaping, especially those below the level of drug traffickers, couldn’t usually justify an emergency.

So, with a few meters between him and the officers, the middle-aged man immediately made what he considered the "smartest decision."

He forcefully slammed the door shut with his left hand while letting go of the sunglasses and household items in the plastic bag with his right hand, turning to run.

He was betting the police wouldn’t dare shoot.

Shen Yaowei hesitated for a moment, and sure enough, didn’t fire.

Mu Zhiyang also refrained from firing and instead exhaled in relief. His biggest worry had been that the suspect might also be armed, and his second concern was the suspect recklessly charging forward, endangering Jiang Yuan.

One of the technical officers, however, reflexively charged forward two steps and kicked open the almost-closed door.

The middle-aged man kept running without looking back.

The old building was shaped like a horseshoe. This particular rental unit, being a corner room, still offered a view of the man’s retreating figure. But if he managed to dash through the hallway, turn a corner, or escape into the safety staircase on the opposite side, he could temporarily evade capture.

What came next would depend on what happened next.

The middle-aged man, Wu Yang, who had been on the run all day and was preparing to flee, still had other safehouses. He was confident: as long as he escaped from here, he would have another chance.

"Give me the gun," Jiang Yuan said, placing his hand on Mu Zhiyang’s wrist and smoothly pulling the gun away.

Mu Zhiyang hesitated briefly but obediently let go.

Jiang Yuan took a moment to aim and fired a shot at Wu Yang about ten meters ahead.

He aimed for the man’s right ankle. Losing his support, Wu Yang collapsed silently to the floor.

BANG—the echo resonated heavily throughout the old building.

"Apprehend him," Jiang Yuan said, gripping the gun with both hands as he moved out the door.

Shen Yaowei froze for a second before chasing after him, with the two technical officers hot on his heels.

Mu Zhiyang followed Jiang Yuan and nervously asked, "You just fired directly?"

If the wrong person were shot—despite the heavy suspicion on the man, despite knowing the room’s lock code, despite matching the features of the suspect seen in surveillance footage, despite attempting to flee—there was still a chance of mistaken identity.

What if it was just a look-alike landlord, who, in a moment of rashness, came over to check the place and panicked when trying to escape?

Jiang Yuan lowered his aim while jogging and replied, "His footprints matched."

If the man hadn’t fled, Jiang Yuan might not have been able to confirm anything. But the moment he ran, several characteristic footprint markers aligned perfectly. After gathering ample evidence over the past two days, Jiang Yuan had memorized the footprints of this man—suspected of being the gang’s mastermind—down to the finest details.

With Jiang Yuan’s skill in footprint analysis, this was essentially a confirmed match.

Once identified as the suspect, by the standards of this case, firing at him wasn’t merely appropriate but rather necessary.

They couldn’t just let him escape.

Beyond the gang’s demonstrated strong counter-surveillance capabilities, considering this room they used as a safehouse and the fact that the suspect evaded today’s large-scale sweep, it was uncertain whether he could be caught later if allowed to flee now.

"Hands up!" Shen Yaowei shouted, pointing his gun at the limping suspect who had been cornered against the wall.

The two technical officers dashed forward, swiftly pinning the man down and cuffing him.

Jiang Yuan stood a few meters away, holding his gun vigilantly until the suspect was securely restrained. Then, he handed the firearm back to Mu Zhiyang.

Shen Yaowei, a bit surprised, glanced at Jiang Yuan and said, "Your marksmanship isn’t bad at all."

Jiang Yuan merely smiled.

Shen Yaowei couldn’t shake a peculiar feeling.