The kick had not yet been withdrawn when "bang bang" gunshots rang out. Two shots, in the blink of an eye, before the other two officers could even shoot, had been cleanly taken down by Zhang Ziwen. This was the first response. Entering the vehicle within 1 second, ordinary cops versus special forces elites, the outcome was clear.
After dealing with the escorting officers, Zhang Ziwen quickly moved to a corner of the prison van. Fatty, the poor Fatty, was coughing violently with tears and snot. Zhang Ziwen, with his sharp gaze, spotted him immediately as he burst into the vehicle.
"Mr. Liu sent me," muffled Zhang Ziwen from behind his gas mask. His hand now held a silver needle. Fatty, unable to open his eyes, was too disoriented to react or understand what was happening inside the vehicle. He only felt his handcuffs and shackles rattling, followed by a sudden release. He felt as if he were riding clouds and fog as his hefty body was hoisted onto Zhang Ziwen's shoulders.
