That voice still lingered in his ears. David Harris slowly looked inside. He was used to life and death, but he had never ignored his own people. The saying “repay a drop of kindness with a spring” might be a bit exaggerated, but as long as it was within his ability, for those close to him who had helped him—even if it was just a small thing—he would always remember it.

David Harris didn’t hesitate any longer. He rushed up to the sixteenth floor at an even faster speed, grabbed his medical kit, and dashed back down.

“Who are you...”

“Wait, who let you in!”

It was chaotic at the moment, and David Harris was also in full police uniform, so when David Harris rushed to the door, only then did someone try to stop him—but it was already too late. David Harris had already charged in. At this point, Mark Miller and John Mason and the others realized what was happening, but it was too late; even if they wanted to stop him, they couldn’t.

……

Unlike the tense, enemy-at-the-gates atmosphere outside with dozens of guns drawn, inside was empty and quiet. Not far from the entrance were two desks, usually where the guards sat, but now they were completely deserted.

Two rows of rooms built with steel bars, each about a dozen square meters in size, now all looked empty at a glance. Only at the very back could he see a crowd of people gathered together. Because it was so far away, even with David Harris’s eyesight, he couldn’t see clearly.

David Harris walked inside step by step. At this moment, he had pushed his fetal breathing technique to the limit, his whole body filled with mysterious energy. The fetal breathing technique was like an engine, and the mysterious energy was like everything else outside the engine. Running them together was no problem at all; in fact, the effect was optimal, allowing David Harris’s martial senses to reach their peak.

Step by step, as he walked in, David Harris was secretly puzzled. This detention room was only for temporarily holding offenders—usually those serving fifteen days of administrative detention, drunk drivers, brawlers, petty thieves. The more serious ones would be sent to the detention center, and the most serious to other specialized places. How could people in a place like this possibly grab guns and attack police? He really couldn’t figure it out.

“Slow your breathing, don’t panic, don’t be nervous, the doctor will be here soon.” A clear voice, strong and encouraging, filled with confidence, reached his ears.

David Harris looked over and saw a short-haired, valiant-looking policewoman in uniform squatting on the ground, pressing her hand to Nina King’s neck, constantly talking to her, helping her stay calm—because only then would she have a chance to survive.

At the far end, more than thirty people stood in a semicircle, their legs trembling, bodies hunched, faces drained of color, eyes filled with terror. They completely blocked the view inside, but David Harris could sense several strong presences within, especially one that was extremely powerful, giving David Harris a sense of oppression.

There was an expert—no wonder. It seemed the people in these detention rooms were also hostages, not rioters who had grabbed guns, but people being used as human shields. Earlier, it was said that four police officers hadn’t escaped. One was on the ground, another was lying against the wall in a cell, badly injured. Where were the other two?

“Stop.” A low, slightly hoarse voice rang out, coming from within the semicircle formed by the thirty-odd detainees. David Harris even saw a gun barrel poking out from the gap between two people standing side by side, aimed directly at him.

Chapter 9: S-Class Wanted Criminal

Not just one person—at least three or more. The speaker was strong but clearly holding back, probably injured; otherwise, someone of that level wouldn’t be locked up here. The person holding the gun was extremely steady—clearly a veteran, someone who had fired and killed before. The bullet was chambered, ready to shoot at any moment.

David Harris immediately assessed and analyzed his surroundings, especially when he saw someone pointing a gun at him. He was all too familiar with guns. For the Lin family, guns were as essential as air, and as the eldest son and grandson, he had to make guns as indispensable as food and water.

Hearing Jason Scott speak again, Lily White turned to look and saw David Harris. Lily White’s face didn’t look good at all; her anxiety was written all over her face.

So he’s the medical officer—how did he get here? Lily White frowned as soon as she saw David Harris, but at a time like this, she couldn’t worry about that. She immediately looked toward the crowd inside: “Jason Scott, this is our police station’s medical officer. He must be allowed to give first aid to the wounded. I already told you, whatever demands you have, we can talk, but absolutely no police officers can die. Otherwise, the people outside will rush in immediately. This is a police station, surrounded by armed police and SWAT. No matter how capable you are, you won’t escape.”

David Harris didn’t speak. He still wasn’t clear on the situation, but he secretly nodded at Lily White’s words. You couldn’t be too soft with people like this, but you also had to give them hope—and Lily White’s words had both. He’d heard people mention the criminal police officer Lily White these days—said she was a firecracker, quick to ignite, had made plenty of arrests and caused even more trouble. Eight out of ten times she caught a suspect, she’d send them to the hospital.