Chapter 75: Who Doesn't Know How to Play Dead?

The top two officials at the Jiangzhou Municipal Bureau were both high-ranking cadres with vice-ministerial status, wielding authority over the most forceful department in the conventional system. In their presence, nothing remained hidden.

In less than ten minutes, the second-in-command understood what had happened. No wonder Sun was so furious—this was cutting off his retreat.

With a wry smile, the second-in-command reported to his superior, who was even more astonished. And rightly so, for he himself belonged to Sun’s faction. If Sun Zhaoxing had acted unreasonably, he could have ignored it, but this time, the young man held all the cards. If he failed to act, the matter would likely escalate straight to the core leadership.

Commander Sun had once sighed and said that his son never considered personal ties in his actions—only his own mood. If he was pleased, he would help his own people without question; if displeased, he would begin tearing things down, starting with his own side.

This matter involved a group with tremendous influence, a headache in itself, and also touched upon underworld figures in Jiangzhou. Now that Sun had inserted himself, if they didn’t resolve it quickly, the situation would spiral out of control.

Neither the top official nor his deputy had enjoyed their positions long enough to let their political rivals seize an opportunity like this.

The head of the sub-bureau then received a call from the city bureau’s chief—a torrent of abuse left the young sub-bureau chief bewildered. Only after enduring the pressure did he finally grasp the situation.

It turned out that a precinct under his jurisdiction had colluded with gangsters, retaliating against someone with a background.

The matter wasn’t big in itself, but it depended on who was paying attention.

With the chief’s direct involvement, if he didn’t handle it properly, his own career as sub-bureau chief would be over.

“Since the higher-ups are looking into these people, it seems it’s time to sever ties with them,” the sub-bureau chief decided in less than half a minute, making up his mind to fight the “enemy elements” to the end. He memorized the description of the “rescue” target given over the phone and personally led the rapid response team and the bureau’s disciplinary officer, sirens blaring as they rushed to the precinct. Pointing at the flustered precinct chief who came out to greet them, he barked, “Arrest him!”

Without support from above, people like this, no matter what dirt you have on them, are untouchable—everyone has their connections. But now, with the higher-ups resolved, keeping such people around would be inviting disaster for the leadership.

The precinct chief was arrested, bewildered and desperate, nearly shouting out his innocence. Seeing that apart from the old, disregarded instructor, everyone else was being detained, he realized what was happening.

It was time to settle accounts.

“Where are the people who were just brought in?” the bureau chief demanded sharply.

The instructor saw his chance. “In the holding cell. I didn’t approve any private punishment. I’ll take you there.” Eager to claim credit, he quickly led the way. In truth, the man inside had insisted, “Don’t do anything reckless,” but his stance hadn’t been particularly strong.

Steeling himself, he unlocked the iron door of the holding cell. At a glance, the sub-bureau chief recognized Yang Changfeng and knew there would be no easy resolution today.

Yang sat cross-legged on a bench, his expression calm, making it clear he had no intention of leaving.

The city bureau’s leaders had made it plain: if the issue wasn’t resolved within an hour, the sub-bureau chief’s career would be finished, and this was a matter of interest to someone important. The pressure was so great that the chief had no choice but to put on a smiling face.

“Don’t blame me for making a fuss—I have no choice. I was beaten. I can’t just let it go, can I?” With no surveillance in the holding cell, Yang could speak as he pleased, emboldened by Sun Zhaoxing’s personal involvement. He turned the tables, saying, “They followed the principle of beating without leaving marks, so I can’t point out exactly where. My stomach hurts, I feel nauseous, and this eye is blurry. I want justice. How do you propose to resolve this?”

The sub-bureau chief wanted nothing more than to drag him out, but he dared not.

This was outright extortion!

“Let us have you examined first, so we can clarify what happened. Rest assured, we have strict discipline. If there’s a problem, it will be dealt with—no leniency,” the chief said, suspicion clear in his tone.

Yang understood. “Go ahead, examine me.”

“This eye was already injured a few days ago. You can ask the people at the Binjiang Road sub-bureau—they know best. It had been improving, but now it feels wrong again,” Yang said calmly, allowing the medic to check him.

The medic, skeptical at first, performed a routine examination, only to turn pale.

“It’s blind—the eye is unresponsive,” he stammered, picking up the dropped flashlight.

The sub-bureau chief was taken aback. Was there really a problem?

His attitude softened considerably. Whatever the case, the priority was to get the man out.

“Here, let me unlock your handcuffs,” he said, taking the key and forcing a smile.

Yang shrank back, saying coolly, “My unit will contact the media and a lawyer. I’m not extorting you—I really was treated as an enemy. Not only was I handcuffed without any evidence or warrant, but I was beaten like this. I can only turn to the media. Let the reporters see for themselves, so they can supervise whether I’m extorting you.”

A bureau leader couldn’t help but snap, “How much compensation do you want?”

He might have some backing, but wasn’t he just a deputy security chief at a company? How much could he want?

Yang touched his eye and replied indifferently, “How should I know? As for emotional damages, I won’t raise that for now. I haven’t asked for compensation for my reputation either. But now my eye is ruined—that’s for life. Shouldn’t I raise it? Given your attitude, I don’t believe you genuinely understand your mistake or want to make amends. I’ll keep complaining about your attitude to your internal affairs department. I expect you to change your badge number within three days so I can’t find you. Otherwise, I’ll pursue this relentlessly and drag you through endless lawsuits.”

The bureau chief kicked his deputy—idiot, can’t you see what’s happening? Still looking to get yourself in deeper trouble?

“Don’t worry…” the chief tried to negotiate. Whatever happened, the priority was to get Yang out. The eye looked fine, but a hospital check would reveal the truth. If it really was damaged, let the officers pay with their own fortunes. His responsibility was to clarify the situation and distance himself.

Yang replied, “I can’t not worry. I don’t trust you. A police chief who’s sworn brother to a gangster—how can I trust your fairness? I’m the weaker party here. Let the media deal with you.”

That stubborn, unyielding attitude was truly like a dog refusing to let go.