I'm in Detective Conan, and I start with the Grand Theft Auto system.

The Metropolitan Police Department headquarters building was now in complete chaos.

The corridor was filled with criminal police officers running around, and the phone rang non-stop from the first floor to the eighth floor.

Every desk was piled high with freshly printed case reports, and the printers kept spitting out papers, making a clicking sound, as if they would never run out.

The ashtrays in the smoking area were overflowing with cigarette butts. Several veteran detectives leaned against the wall, one hand holding a cigarette and the other a phone, their brows furrowed so deeply they could trap flies.

Inspector Megure sat at his desk, clutching three recently delivered on-site reports, his forehead covered in sweat.

His tie was loosened, two buttons on his shirt collar were undone, and the coffee in front of him had long since gone cold, but he didn't have time to refill it.

Because the phone rang again.

But that's nothing.

What truly infuriated the entire Metropolitan Police Department was that lunatic riding Yamaha.

Inspector Matsumoto was standing in front of the whiteboard in the conference room, holding a marker in his hand, his face as black as the bottom of a pot.

The whiteboard was covered with photos and map markings of the crime scene, and a clear route was drawn in red—starting from Beikacho, passing through Beikacho, going through Shinjuku, crossing Shibuya, and finally arriving in Koto Ward.

The entire route almost circles the core area of ​​Tokyo.

Inspector Matsumoto stared at the red line, growing increasingly irritated. Finally, unable to contain himself any longer, he slammed his hand on the whiteboard with a loud bang, making the shoulders of the young detectives nearby tremble.

"What the hell?! Is this motorcyclist just bored out of his mind?!"

"They're handing out revolvers all over the streets! They're giving them to everyone they see! Men, women, young and old!"

"Are they saying our Metropolitan Police Department's workload isn't enough?!"

Silence fell over the meeting room.

No one dared to speak.

He took a couple of deep breaths, forcibly suppressing his anger, and turned to his deputy beside him, yelling, "Notify the media immediately and release the news!"

"We're issuing a warrant for that lunatic who goes around handing out guns on his motorcycle! Hurry!"

"At the same time, a public notice was issued, urging all members of the public who find or obtain a handgun to voluntarily hand it over to the nearest police station!"

"Otherwise, if the police discover that you are illegally possessing firearms, you will be prosecuted for violating gun and knife laws!"

The order was quickly relayed.

An urgent arrest warrant was broadcast during the evening news program.

The image is a blurry screenshot from a surveillance camera: a man wearing a black helmet and riding a gray Yamaha, of medium to tall build, whose face is completely obscured by the helmet and has no identifiable features.

The scrolling text below reads: "Police are actively pursuing a suspect involved in the illegal distribution of firearms. Anyone with information is asked to call the following hotline to provide clues."

Immediately following, another news update broadcast the police's appeal: "The public is urged to voluntarily hand over any revolvers they find. The police will not pursue the matter—but if anyone is found possessing them during patrols, they will be dealt with seriously according to the law!"

The announcement did have some effect.

Many honest and simple citizens, upon seeing the police officer's serious face and the words "criminal handling" on television, felt a chill run down their spines and quickly wrapped their revolver, which still smelled of gun oil, in cloth and took it to the nearby police station overnight.

The patrol officer on duty, looking exhausted, took the gun, registered a number on it, locked it in the cabinet, and said, "Alright, go back now."

But most of the people who got the guns never handed them over.

Not only did they not hand over the gun, but some people also hid it deep inside a closet, under a mattress, and in a small hidden compartment in a car.

Some even posted on social media mocking the Metropolitan Police Department: "With your efficiency? By the time you trace it back to me, it'll be ages."

The post was followed by a string of likes and "hahaha" comments, with one person even commenting, "I picked up a bunch today too, and I've already hidden them. I finally feel a little safer going out at night now."

No one reported him; in fact, some people even asked him where he found it.

To be fair, those netizens who mocked the Metropolitan Police Department's inefficiency were indeed telling the truth.

Thousands of shootings, large and small, occurred throughout Tokyo today.

The vast majority of these were crimes of passion, followed by revenge killings, and some were acts of taking advantage of the chaos to settle personal scores.

All available detectives from the Metropolitan Police Department headquarters were deployed, and police cars shuttled back and forth through the streets and alleys of Tokyo, their sirens blaring almost non-stop from morning till night.

The forensic team worked overtime until their hands were sore, and the freezers in the morgue were almost overflowing.

The various investigation teams under Inspector Megure were all working non-stop, with some working for more than ten hours straight, their eyes bloodshot, and some even feeling nauseous from drinking coffee.

In this situation, who has the energy to go door-to-door to collect those thousands of revolvers that have been scattered among the people?

As for the local police stations and patrol officers, they were even less inclined to care.

Are you kidding me?

Earning a monthly salary of over 200,000 yen, his daily work consists of handling neighborhood disputes, giving directions to tourists, and registering found wallets.

Now you're sending them to the homes of people who have hidden guns to forcibly confiscate them?

What if the other side pulls out a gun and starts fighting them?

Their monthly salary isn't even enough to buy a tombstone.

Therefore, most grassroots patrol officers, after receiving the task of "calling on citizens to hand over their firearms," ​​would simply ask casually during their patrols, "Have you found a revolver at home? If so, please hand it over."

After asking and receiving no response, he didn't waste any more words and simply turned and left. It wasn't even his own gun; why bother with such trivial matters?

--------

Around 9 p.m., the streetlights in front of the 221B coffee shop were emitting a warm yellow glow.

Lin Shen stood by the roadside and personally escorted Yuanzi to her black van.

Sonoko had one foot on the car door sill, half of her body leaning out of the car, her face flushed and her eyes sparkling with excitement. Clearly, she was very satisfied with tonight's dinner.

Lin Shen waved to her and said, "Be careful on the road. There are a lot of people and guns on the streets tonight."

But when the driver standing next to him heard the words "lots of guns," his eyes twitched slightly, and he silently gripped the steering wheel tighter.

Sonoko, however, didn't seem to mind at all, and waved to Lin Shen with a smile: "Mr. Lin, I'll be careful! Your cooking is so delicious—can you cook for me again next time?"

"If I have time, definitely." Lin Shen nodded with a smile.

After receiving this reply, Sonoko's smile widened. She waved vigorously at him before bending down and getting into the car.

The car door closed, the van slowly started moving, and drove into the night.

Lin Shen stood by the roadside, watching the car's taillights turn a corner at the end of the street and disappear from sight.

He brought up the system panel and took a look.

The message bar is still constantly updating.

[Ding—You have successfully stirred up trouble, earning 10 points.]

[Ding—You have successfully stirred up trouble, earning 10 points.]

[Ding—You have successfully stirred up trouble, earning 10 points.]

【bite--……】

The rate at which messages are flooding the screen is much slower than it was two or three hours ago.

The most frantic time was around dusk, when message pop-ups would come out like machine gun fire, and he had to manually mute the notifications to get some peace and quiet.

However, the frequency of system notifications has decreased, with one popping up only every two or three seconds—indicating that the peak of shootings on the streets of Tokyo has passed, and the situation is now entering a sporadic final stage.

He leaned against the bar and looked at the points balance in the upper right corner of the panel.

That number made him smirk!

More than 10 points!

Today, he rode his Yamaha around Tokyo and fired a revolver; he himself couldn't even remember how many he had thrown out.

But points don't lie.

10 points, with every 10 points corresponding to a successful act of igniting a fire.

In other words, at least tens of thousands of people received his "gift" on Valentine's Day and chose to do something with it.

Lin Shen couldn't help but sigh inwardly.

This crappy place truly lives up to its reputation as a crime-ridden city capable of filming over a thousand episodes of Detective Conan.

On the surface, it appears peaceful and prosperous, but in reality, the criminal desires surging beneath the surface run deeper than the sewers of Tokyo Bay.

He only poked it lightly, and it created such a large opening.

If this gets really heated, the whole of Tokyo might turn into Gotham City!

But he didn't continue with his reflections.

Without hesitation, he opened the system store, flipped through several pages of the dazzling array of features, and finally fixed his gaze on an item with a shimmering gold border.

[Fatal Wound Cancellation: Passive Skill. When you receive fatal damage that would normally result in immediate death or irreversible injury, this skill will automatically trigger, downgrading the damage from "lethal" to "grievous wound". Price: 100,000 points.]

This is it.

Lin Shen clicked the buy button without hesitation.

A green notification popped up on the system panel: [Purchase successful. Skill "Fatal Wound Cancellation" activated.]

Immediately, the points balance in the upper right corner of the panel plummeted from six figures back to a pitiful three figures—but he wasn't bothered at all.

With this skill, he will never have to worry about being shot in the head or having his heart pierced during a firefight, dying instantly before he can even use the secret technique to heal!

Now everything's settled, I can relax and have some fun!