National Forensic Doctor-Chapter 1121 - 1052: No Issues

Beep.

Beep beep...

As the phone rang for the second time, Huang Qiangmin, who was in deep sleep, suddenly opened his eyes. He turned over and grabbed his phone, his heart pounding furiously.

Over the years as the head of the criminal investigation unit, the most unfortunate thing about the job was the midnight phone calls. The worst part was that most of the time, the calls meant something truly bad had happened or involved someone important, leaving no room for evasion.

Huang Qiangmin had recently stepped down as head of the criminal investigation unit and now served exclusively as Commissioner of the Ningtai County Bureau. His workload had lightened considerably, and late-night calls had become far less frequent. But tonight’s call brought with it a wave of unease.

"This is Huang Qiangmin," he said after unlocking his phone, his hand trembling slightly—effects of adrenaline.

"Comrade Huang, shots were fired," Wang Chuanxing immediately reported the situation.

Huang Qiangmin’s hand shook: "Was anyone killed?"

"The perpetrator is dead. Pai De took a bullet," Wang Chuanxing explained as concisely as possible.

To Huang Qiangmin, this was a sudden jolt. His heart skipped a beat. He asked, "Who is Pai De?"

"Uh, just the tablet computer," Wang Chuanxing answered in a quieter voice.

"You little punk!" Huang Qiangmin cursed, finally climbing out of bed. He asked, "Is Jiang Yuan okay?"

"He’s fine."

Huang Qiangmin fully relaxed: "What was the perpetrator’s intention? Give me the full rundown."

...

Ten minutes later, half the police force of the Ningtai County Bureau had been woken up.

Over twenty vehicles arrived at the scene, including, to everyone’s shock, two hearses.

By the time Huang Qiangmin reached the scene, Jiang Yuan was already surrounded by layers of officers. freeweɓnovēl.coɱ

"You okay?" Even though Huang Qiangmin already knew what had happened, he still needed to confirm with Jiang Yuan before he could settle down.

Jiang Yuan nodded and said, "I’m fine, just lost a tablet."

"Yeah, I know. A tablet computer, huh? That thing broke, so be it!" Huang Qiangmin was furious—at a time like this, who cared about trivial gadgets?

Jiang Yuan explained, "Wang Chuanxing used the tablet to bait the perpetrator into firing a shot; otherwise, someone could’ve died."

Only then did Huang Qiangmin realize Jiang Yuan was trying to give credit to Wang Chuanxing.

"Good job, Chuanxing," Huang Qiangmin said, patting Wang Chuanxing’s shoulder hard—really hard.

Wang Chuanxing grinned through the pain.

"What was this guy trying to achieve?" This was the question that had puzzled Huang Qiangmin all the way here. Everyone on their side was unscathed, the perpetrator died at the scene—surely this wasn’t some suicidal mission.

Mu Zhiyang stood nearby, visibly shaken, and said, "If Chuanxing hadn’t reacted quickly and thrown the tablet to lure the perpetrator into firing the first shot, I’d probably be dead. Plus, the perpetrator was holding something like a sawed-off double-barrel shotgun with two shells—whoever tried to grab a gun from my corpse would’ve been hit by the second shot."

Huang Qiangmin froze, finally understanding why everyone kept mentioning "Pai De."

Once again, he patted Wang Chuanxing on the shoulder twice: "Nicely done."

Wang Chuanxing grinned: "It was just the situation. I was close enough that if no one had grabbed the gun, I’d have taken the second shot myself—still dead either way."

Standing on the scene, Huang Qiangmin looked at the position of the corpse and then at where Jiang Yuan and the others had been, mentally reconstructing the moment the events unfolded.

As a veteran police officer who started his career when gun restrictions were not as rigid, he was deeply aware of what it meant to face high-caliber firearms unarmed.

Before the 2000s in the country, sawed-off shotguns and double-barrel shotguns were almost standard equipment for organized groups, and powerful mining bosses liked to purchase such weapons for competing over mines and tenants. Huang Qiangmin had seen many people killed by gunshots, most of them muscular, tough individuals with abs.

If Jiang Yuan’s shot hadn’t struck Bian Yizhang in the brow but instead hit a limb, abdomen, or even certain chest areas, there could have been further casualties at the scene.

At this moment, a deep sense of dread overtook Huang Qiangmin.

"Knives and guns show no mercy"—the phrase sounded light, but when it became a real threat to one’s own life, it weighed unbearably heavy.

"You can’t keep traveling alone like this anymore," Huang Qiangmin said, gripping Jiang Yuan’s arm as if afraid he might vanish.

Nearby, Mu Zhiyang, Wang Chuanxing, and Wen Ming exchanged confused glances: Huh?

Jiang Yuan replied helplessly, "Mu Zhiyang had a gun this time. There were four of us in one car—already pretty safe."

"Safe? You guys nearly got wiped out this time! Security measures must be strengthened," Huang Qiangmin snapped, still fuming. He had seen the long blade the perpetrator carried on his back. With a blade over a meter long and a handle exceeding thirty centimeters, a capable wielder could kill four people like it was nothing.

Jiang Yuan shook his head: "Such psychopaths aren’t common."

Having seen the weapons Bian Yizhang carried, Jiang Yuan could guess his intentions.

Truthfully, even a kitchen knife could often cause injuries in routine police work at the station.

Huang Qiangmin didn’t argue further with Jiang Yuan and simply said, "Maybe others don’t encounter many psychos, but you always end up targeting them."

For a moment, Jiang Yuan had no rebuttal.

After saying his piece, Huang Qiangmin pulled out his phone and began deploying arrangements.

Tonight would undoubtedly be a sleepless night for most officers involved, but Jiang Yuan had to rest, which required proper security measures.

Soon, two police cars and two police motorcycles arrived together.

"That’s it for tonight. Later we’ll hold a meeting to study specifics and come up with a long-term strategy." Understanding some of Jiang Yuan’s thoughts, Huang Qiangmin added directly, "Minimum personnel, maximum precautions—that’s the ideal way."

"Or maybe I’ll carry a gun myself?" Jiang Yuan didn’t dare reject security outright. This time, if Mu Zhiyang hadn’t brought a gun, he might really have died.

All things considered, Jiang Yuan felt carrying a handgun was more comfortable than being accompanied by a convoy.

Huang Qiangmin shook his head: "Carrying a gun is fine, but relying solely on the gun isn’t."

"Alright then," Jiang Yuan said, noting the late hour. Without further fuss, he got into the car and headed home for some rest.

He was utterly exhausted—physically and mentally drained after the earlier tension—and desperately needed sleep. Handling the bodies of individuals like Bian Yizhang could wait until tomorrow; it was no longer an urgent matter. Besides, pursuits like autopsy or trace evidence analysis required clear minds and full energy.

Two motorcycles led the way with Jiang Yuan and the others following, lights flashing but sirens silent, heading toward Jiangcun Residential Area.

Some night owl residents of Jiang Village were downstairs drinking, eating skewers, and chatting. When they saw Jiang Yuan disembark from the convoy of police cars, they merely waved and invited him over for drinks.

"Another day—just handled dead bodies," Jiang Yuan explained in a down-to-earth manner. After greeting the relatives trailing behind the convoy, he left first.

The accompanying officers were also settled into guest rooms. In places Jiang Yuan frequented, such as Changyang City and Beijing, he had properties, and arranging accommodations for colleagues was a common practice. It wasn’t the Jiang Family’s first visit, so everyone was quite familiar with the process.

But for folks like Old Twelve, who had never experienced a gunfight scene before—even though only two shots were fired—the fact that someone had died was very real.

Even now, several of them remained shaken and were in no mood to go home, joining the drinking table instead.

"You know, Jiang Yuan’s first-class and second-class commendations—those aren’t things a regular person could get," Old Twelve said, pouring himself a full cup of baijiu, downing it with a gulp, and then marveling with shining eyes.