One of the bodyguards even glanced into the clinic room. Inside, apart from the equipment with electrode patches torn into disarray, there was only Abraham Lincoln. There was no sign of the giant snake the young master had mentioned.

The Villain Thompson shrugged innocently. There was only a jiao in the room, not a snake. How could they frame him like this? Just because they had money, did that mean they could act like hooligans?

“What a huge green snake, so thick, so big, right in the room! Quick, go kill it! Call the army, use cannons, use missiles to blow it up!”

Still shaken, William Foster frantically gestured at his own bodyguards and the police.

He wanted to escape, but was firmly blocked, so he could only cry and scream hysterically.

At the end of the corridor, the blocked reporters were snapping away with their phones or small DV cameras, afraid to miss such explosive news: a rich second-generation murderer pretending to be insane to escape the law.

Although many had anticipated this possibility, they hadn’t expected that he would actually dare to go through with it!

The police all wore strange expressions. This Young Master Foster was quite the actor. To fake mental illness and escape punishment, he was putting on a performance that seemed almost real.

This place was in the city, with no mountains or forests for miles around. Even setting aside whether there could be a snake, how could it have gotten into the Seventh People’s Hospital? And with such a thick body, it probably couldn’t even fit through the clinic door. Even the movie “Anaconda” wasn’t this exaggerated.

For safety’s sake, a few police officers armed with brooms and mops carefully turned Abraham Lincoln’s clinic room upside down. There wasn’t even an earthworm, let alone a giant green snake.

“Dr. Thompson, the suspect just said there was a giant snake in the room. Did you see anything?”

Prosecutor Mr. Harris routinely questioned Abraham Lincoln, who had just been in the same room as William Foster. Even though he knew it was nonsense, he still had to clarify it in the report.

“How could there possibly be a snake?”

If Mr. Harris had asked about a jiao, Abraham Lincoln would definitely have confessed to the government for leniency.

“This kid is really good at acting.”

Mr. Harris snorted. As expected, just more tricks.

This The Foster Family, relying on their history of social welfare and connections with many government departments, had caused no end of trouble for the judicial system. Just dealing with all the favors and entanglements from various sides was enough to exhaust many leaders.

Just like this time, clearly trying to exploit a loophole in the law.

“Shall we continue?”

Abraham Lincoln blinked.

Mr. Harris glanced at William Foster, who was still “acting,” and nodded at Abraham Lincoln.

In the second round, Abraham Lincoln hadn’t even made a move before his opponent was already down.

“Continue! Someone, get him back in there.”

William Foster refused to cooperate. With such a huge, thick snake in the room, he’d rather spend the rest of his life in prison than end up in a snake’s belly.

“Young master, there’s no snake inside. We’ve all checked. There really isn’t a snake.”

The The Foster Bodyguards tried to comfort him while forcefully shoving their young master back into the clinic, even helping the police handcuff him to the chair.

“No, I want out! Help!”

Young Master Foster wailed at the top of his lungs, but no one paid him any attention.

“Dr. Thompson, sorry to trouble you!”

The head of the Foster Bodyguard even nodded at Abraham Lincoln before closing the door again.

With a soft click, the door locked, and William Foster completely broke down. Before, he’d been scared by the true form of the green jiao; now, he was just scaring himself.

After being frightened once, the demoness not appearing was even more terrifying than her showing up. No one knew when she might suddenly appear and scare (or swallow) someone to death.

Abraham Lincoln sniffed and caught a whiff of urine. Looking at William Foster, he saw droplets of water falling from the chair—he’d actually wet himself in fear.

There was no helping it; he had to use his trump card.

He took a thin silver chain from the drawer, with a silver ring attached to one end, and dangled it in front of William Foster’s eyes. His voice seemed to take on a magical quality, irresistibly drawing in the listener’s mind.

This little prop was just a way to break through psychological defenses via the eyes. A true master of hypnosis could succeed with just a snap of the fingers, a syllable, or even a glance.

“You’re at home, lying in bed, dreaming…”

Before he’d finished three sentences, William Foster’s eyes had already glazed over.

This special skill wasn’t learned from any school instructor, but picked up by Abraham Lincoln during a rotation in the sleep disorders department, passed down from Dean Carter.

Hypnosis was highly effective for chronic insomnia. Just guiding a patient into two hours of deep sleep could allow the exhausted patient to fully relax, greatly alleviating and even improving their condition.

Half an hour later, a now-calm William Foster, still reeking of urine, pushed open the door. He no longer screamed or shouted, and acted as if nothing had happened, quietly letting the police take him away.

The murder case involving a rich second-generation caused quite a stir. No matter how wealthy the The Foster Family was, there was no way to settle it quietly.

If the Seventh People’s Hospital’s assessment report contradicted the forensic report from the Public Security Bureau, a fourth-party assessment and a joint expert evaluation would likely be initiated, until a fair result that satisfied everyone was reached.