"Hey!" Charles Warren also stood up, took two steps, then suddenly leapt forward, exerted all his strength, and threw a punch at Captain Collins's chest.

Suddenly, Captain Collins moved, his right hand whipping out, meeting Charles Warren's fist head-on.

Their fists collided in midair, producing a "thud"—the sound of flesh and bone crashing together.

"Ouch!" Charles Warren felt as if his hand had struck a hammer moving at high speed. The pain was so intense that tears nearly sprang from his eyes, his fist aching to the core, as if his bones had been snapped in an instant.

"Damn it!" Charles Warren couldn't help but curse from the pain, but this sharp agony also stirred a fierce energy within him.

He stepped forward! Charles Warren twisted his waist sharply, spun around, turned his back to Captain Collins, pressed in close, and then unleashed the "groin strike" he had practiced countless times.

First, he jabbed his elbow toward Captain Collins's chest. Just as Charles Warren's forearm, like a whip, snapped toward Captain Collins's groin, Captain Collins again swung his fist, striking Charles Warren's elbow.

Charles Warren's elbow instantly went numb! It felt as if a nerve had been struck, and naturally, his forearm failed to snap out.

Immediately after, Charles Warren's elbow throbbed with intense pain.

Withdrawing his hand, Charles Warren found that his fist was already swollen and red, burning with pain, as if drenched in chili oil. He could barely move it, let alone fight again.

"Young man, your fists are too soft." Captain Collins saw Charles Warren retreat and stop fighting. "Don't think that just because you've learned a little, you can go out and cause trouble. Sooner or later, you'll pay for it."

Charles Warren was in so much pain he sucked in a cold breath. "I'm no good, too weak. But this guy reacts too fast, and his hands are as hard as iron. Even if I hit him, I can't take it myself! Forget it, I'll wait until tomorrow, find Miss Turner and train hard. I have to knock this guy to the ground."

A strong sense of competitiveness surged up in Charles Warren's heart.

Charles Warren clutched his arm. "I'm no match for you. I'm going home to rub on some medicine. I'm leaving." With that, he turned and walked away.

"Wait." Captain Collins called out, "How much money did you get for catching those people?"

"What, you know I took the money?" Charles Warren turned back, tense.

"If you can't even see that much, what are you doing being a cop? You should go home and take care of kids." Captain Collins chuckled.

"Then why did you still lock them up and not hold me responsible?" Charles Warren was both surprised and disappointed, knowing he couldn't keep the money. He took it out and counted—there was 2,100 yuan. It hurt so much to part with it, it was like cutting off a piece of his own flesh, but he tossed it onto the table.

"You've turned it in, so what would I hold you responsible for?" Captain Collins glanced at the money on the table and nodded. "Besides, if I said you robbed them, your parents would appeal, saying a group of thugs chased a high school student, both sides got arrested by the police, then the thugs were released and the high schooler was locked up as a robber. If word got out, how could I keep being a cop?"

"True!" Charles Warren felt a weight lift off his shoulders and thought to himself, "This is what they call 'mud falling into your pants—whether it's shit or not, it looks like shit.'"

"Don't get cocky. Those punks aren't good people either. Times have changed, so we catch and release, release and catch. If this were the crackdown years a decade or so ago, they'd have been shot already."

Captain Collins stubbed his cigarette hard into the ashtray on the table. "Kid, today I'm giving you a lesson. Don't think all us cops are useless."

After hearing this, Charles Warren turned and left.

Chapter 9: Catherine Turner's Needle

Charles Warren walked out of the police station, feeling both frustrated and regretful. Frustrated that he lost his fighting power after just two punches, and even more regretful about the 2,100 yuan.

"Twenty-one red bills," Charles Warren thought, feeling as if another piece of flesh had been cut from him. However, the pain in his hand had faded, replaced by numbness.

His entire arm seemed to have lost all feeling.

Charles Warren gritted his teeth and lifted his sleeve. He saw his elbow was badly swollen, with blood pooling under the skin, turning it purple and black. His fist, too, had turned a dark, bruised color—shocking to look at.

A gentle press sent a stabbing pain through him again. Charles Warren even felt as if there were a thousand needles stabbing inside his arm bones.

"Too ruthless, but it's because I'm not as skilled." Seeing how badly he was beaten, Charles Warren grumbled with hatred, wishing he could immediately take a bus to the provincial capital to find Catherine Turner.

"Hey, Charles Warren? Is that you? What are you doing here, looking for someone?" As Charles Warren walked home, thinking about rubbing on medicine and then heading to the provincial capital to train hard with Catherine Turner and make up for this loss, suddenly a voice sounded behind him.

Charles Warren turned around and saw it was the girl who sat behind him in class—the one surnamed Cao, who was both class monitor and study committee member.

"I... I'm just taking a walk, strolling around." Of course, Charles Warren wasn't about to say he'd been caught for robbery and fighting, and had just been released from the police station.

"Crystal, what are you doing here?" Just as Charles Warren was about to make up an excuse and leave, Captain Collins came out of the police station, saw the girl, and his frown relaxed a little.

Hearing Captain Collins call out, Charles Warren finally remembered that this female classmate's name was Crystal Collins.