Flip the table and divide the family property! Take his wife and daughter into the mountains and eat

Following the wrist upwards, the back of the person's hand was covered with countless deep, bone-revealing holes, the flesh at the edges rolled back, presenting a gruesome ripped appearance—it had been bitten to pieces with teeth.

Even worse, when Zhao Shanhe's rough fingertips brushed against the man's right hand, between his thumb and index finger, they clearly touched a layer of calluses that had turned white from being soaked in blood.

Those are calluses that develop over many years from constantly handling guns and triggers, plus gripping the handle of a machete tightly.

He didn't say anything, casually tucked the mangled arm back under his military coat, grabbed the edge of the flatbed frame, and helped Liu Mei and the old caregiver push faster into the depths of the corridor.

"Where did you recruit this person?"

As Zhao Shanhe strode forward, he asked a question that sounded casual, his tone so calm that it revealed no emotion whatsoever.

Liu Mei gripped the handlebars tightly with both hands, running and stumbling, panting as she replied, "Just now! A few people dumped a cart at the entrance of the emergency room, abandoned the person, and ran away!"

The flatbed cart rolled over the potholed cement ground, its broken wheels making a screeching sound.

"Did they just abandon them and run away?" Zhao Shanhe stared at the dimly lit corridor ahead.

"yes!"

Liu Mei was sweating profusely with anxiety, and her voice broke as the flatbed swayed: "The one in the black leather jacket who was leading us shouted before he left that he was the nephew of our department director, Li, and that he had gotten into a fight outside and suffered a great loss. He told us to bring him up here quickly so that we could find Director Li to save his life!"

As Zhao Shanhe listened, he coldly observed the wounded man on the verge of death in the vehicle.

This person was in such a terrible state that they were no longer recognizable as a human.

The tattered military overcoat he was wearing was soaked through with black mud and blood, and it was stuck to his skin like a rotten rag.

The face was even more unsightly, as if it had been deliberately dragged on the ground. Thick ash mixed with semi-dried blood clots covered the features completely, leaving only the nostrils where blood bubbles were still escaping with each weak breath.

Zhao Shanhe sneered inwardly.

Whose nephew gets into a fight on the street and has his fingers broken and his face obscured with ashes to cover it up?

This is clearly involved in some shady underworld feud, and someone has secretly killed him, so he doesn't even dare to reveal his true identity.

Zhao Shanhe's eyes darkened slightly, and the thought of investigation in his mind instantly overwhelmed his other thoughts.

Under the guise of helping push the cart, he quietly freed his right hand, intending to reach over and wipe away the blood and mud from the man's face to see what kind of face was hidden under this layer of furnace ash.

But just as his fingertips were about to touch the person's cheek...

Just as the flatbed cart was about to reach the door of the treatment room.

Suddenly, a chipped dent appeared on the terrazzo floor in front of the corridor.

Liu Mei was moving too fast and couldn't stop in time. The already broken caster wheel of the flatbed cart crashed into a pothole, accompanied by a piercing metallic scraping sound, and the front of the cart slumped down.

The enormous inertia was instantly transmitted to the rear of the car, and the heavy rear half of the car body was lifted into the air like a seesaw.

Along with the seriously injured person lying on it, the entire flatbed cart was almost lifted half a person's height, and it looked like it was about to overturn completely, crashing heavily onto the cold ground along with the people on it.

"what!"

Liu Mei screamed in fright, her hands were flung away by the force of the handlebars, and she closed her eyes in despair.

At the critical moment.

Zhao Shanhe, who was following on the side, didn't even blink. His thick arm suddenly stretched forward, and his five fingers, like iron hooks made of steel bars, gripped the edge of the iron frame that was about to be overturned.

He braced himself on his hind legs, his back muscles tensed suddenly under his coarse cloth clothes, and the veins on the back of his hands bulged out instantly.

With a low, muffled groan escaping his throat, Zhao Shanhe, with an unyielding and overwhelming force, pulled the suspended iron frame down hard.

"Bang!"

The flatbed cart, which was about to fly off the ground, was pulled back from mid-air by him with one hand.

The four iron wheels slammed heavily onto the concrete ground with a deafening thud. The entire vehicle came to a steady stop, as if rooted to the spot, without the slightest unnecessary sway.

The seriously wounded soldier on the bus was jolted awake by the jolts, letting out a painful groan, but remained lifeless, slumped in his military overcoat.

The elderly caregiver was so shaken by what he had just witnessed that he strained his back and collapsed onto the cold cement floor.

He stared wide-eyed at Zhao Shanhe's back as he flattened the cart with one hand, his Adam's apple bobbing several times before he managed to squeeze out a distorted half-sentence, his face full of astonishment: "My God, what incredible strength..."

Liu Mei, still shaken, leaned against the wall, not even having had time to catch her breath.

At the end of the corridor, the half-open wooden door of the treatment room was suddenly pushed open.

Director Li strode out with a sullen face, his hands still dripping with handwashing water, his brows furrowed in a deep knot.

"What are you doing making such a racket outside in the middle of the night!"

Before he could finish speaking, his gaze passed over Liu Mei and suddenly fell upon a mangled hand dangling outside a military overcoat on the flatbed cart, its bone fragments protruding.

Director Li's action of flicking water droplets froze instantly.

His face, which had been contorted with anger, twitched violently, draining all color from his face. He froze on the spot as if struck by lightning.

Liu Mei didn't have time to explain further and quickly started pushing the car inside.

"Director Li! The person has arrived! The wound is still bleeding heavily, and the finger bones are completely exposed!"

As she pushed the cart through gritted teeth, she urgently reported to her supervisor, "There was a young man in a black leather jacket at the emergency room entrance just now. He said this is your nephew, Li Qiang. He got into a fight outside and was badly hurt. He told us to bring him up here immediately so you can save his life!"

"My nephew?"

Director Li stared intently at the mangled hand, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down with difficulty.

A fine layer of cold sweat instantly seeped out from his forehead, trickling down his slightly trembling temples.

His eyes darted around nervously for a moment, then he quickly pushed up his black-rimmed glasses, his voice trembling.

"Oh...oh, right, it's my nephew. That kid's always causing trouble outside."

He nodded repeatedly to hide his fear, then hurriedly turned and rushed back to the treatment room, grabbing the tweezers from the stainless steel tray.

"Nurse Liu, don't just stand there! Quickly bring him in and get him on the bed. Get the hemostat and gauze ready!"

Liu Mei slammed open the remaining half of the wooden door and turned to Zhao Shanhe: "Comrade Zhao, quickly help me lift him onto the bed!"

Zhao Shanhe remained silent.

He released his grip on the metal frame, strode into the treatment room, and steadily supported the man's shoulders, back, and knees with both hands.

With a sudden burst of strength from his waist and abdomen, along with his blood-soaked military overcoat, he lifted the person as easily as a weightless sack of cotton and laid them flat on the operating table.

"Alright, Comrade Zhao, thank you so much for tonight!"

While quickly cutting off the remaining sleeve of the wounded soldier's clothes, Liu Mei turned around and shooed people out: "We need to perform sterile procedures inside, and we also need to suture and stop the bleeding over a large area. It won't look good. Please go outside and wait for a while."

Director Li, with his back to the door, reached for the hemostats on the tray with trembling hands, and followed along in a weak voice, trying to shoo them away.

"Yes, yes, everyone who's just standing around should get out of the way. Don't get in the way; who's going to be responsible if it delays the rescue!"

Zhao Shanhe glanced coldly at Director Li's straight back, which was still trembling slightly as if out of control.

"Thank you for your hard work."

Zhao Shanhe calmly uttered four words, casually grabbed a dry towel from beside the sink, wiped away a smear of blood from the back of his hand, and strode out of the treatment room.

"Bang."

The half-closed wooden door of the treatment room slammed shut behind him, completely shutting out the strong smell of blood and the chaotic clanging of instruments inside.

Zhao Shanhe stood in the empty corridor and looked up at the yellowed clock on the wall.

The minute hand just passed the number six at the bottom of the dial, making a dull "click" sound.

Exactly half an hour had passed since he made his first phone call in the outpatient lobby.

Zhao Shanhe casually tossed the blood-stained towel into the wastepaper basket in the corner of the corridor.

He didn't linger at the entrance of the emergency room. He reached up to straighten his rough cloth collar, turned around, and strode towards the duty desk in the outpatient hall on the first floor.

Time is up.

We should have some definite news from Ivanov's side by now.