Mastering the Sword Manual, sweeping across the globe

With a sickeningly loud snapping sound, the chain was finally cut.

The woman's neck loosened, and she almost collapsed. She was quickly lifted into a waiting ambulance and taken to the hospital.

As the firefighters were packing up their tools, one of them whispered to Zhao Jianguo, "Zhao, this chain... it's impossible to twist it like this by hand. The tools they used are unusual, or..."

Zhao Jianguo nodded solemnly.

That's all, but the necessary procedures still need to be followed.

The technical team arrived, took photos, and collected evidence, mainly the dog carcass on the second floor, the broken window, the marks on the wall, and the piece of iron chain.

Sun Haoran also handed over the records of the questions he had asked several onlookers. Their accounts were all similar, pointing to a "young man with black-rimmed glasses and extraordinary strength," but no one could see his specific appearance, let alone know where he had gone.

After organizing the materials, a case file was completed.

As Zhao Ban compiled all the information, he found it increasingly strange.

The way the iron chain was twisted completely defied the common sense of manual or general tool operation, and it was more like it was violently clamped by some kind of giant hydraulic device. But where would such a device be found on site?

The neck fracture of the dog carcass on the second floor was too clean, as if it had been fatally crushed by a large predator with precise stomping. But what human foot has such terrifying pressure and stability?

Not to mention the horrific dent on the side of the dog's corpse and the trajectory of it breaking through the window, combined with the few footholds on the high part of the outer wall—which can hardly be called footholds, it's more like someone just pulled themselves up from the ground and then kicked the wall twice to jump up there. This isn't a movie!

However, the strangest thing about this is the motive.

Based on the complainant's tearful account and the accounts of bystanders, this "young man with black-rimmed glasses and extraordinary strength" had absolutely no connection with the woman locked to the telephone pole before today.

There are no economic disputes, no emotional entanglements, and they may even have never met before.

All his actions seem to have started from the moment the woman let her dog (which was not on a leash) run, nearly injuring a little girl.

Is it simply because they can't stand it?

Because he couldn't stand it, he instantly killed a ferocious dog in the street with terrifying power?

Because they couldn't stand it, they violently broke into the house and used the dog's corpse as a weapon to severely beat the dog owner?

Because they couldn't stand it, they used such an extremely humiliating method to lock a living person up on the street like a dog and display them to the public?

impossible?

Even in the Great Yang Dynasty, there are still people like this?

However, this guy, despite his arrogant behavior, also reveals a certain cunning.

The incident occurred in Dongfeng Lane, a crisscrossing alleyway with old buildings, making it one of the few areas with a blurred surveillance network in the city.

The key contact points and exit routes cleverly avoid the few pitiful cameras at major intersections.

Aside from signs of violence, no personal belongings that could identify the owner were left at the scene; even the iron chain belonged to the homeowner.

This person seems to have a clear understanding of where the blind spots are and how to maximize the use of the environment.

Moreover, although the scene was large and ugly, the actual consequences were clear: the dog died, which was a loss of property; the woman was taken to the hospital for examination and at most suffered a broken rib, soft tissue contusion, and some facial scratches, which could be considered minor injuries, but were far from serious injuries.

The pain and humiliation are real, but from the perspective of injury assessment and property value alone, it falls into a delicate range of "serious, but not so serious".

The government has limited manpower and resources. The targets imposed from above, the murder cases, the series of thefts and robberies, and the telecom fraud chains that we are currently working on are all more urgent than this "assault and restraint case".

There was no significant property loss, no irreversible severe disability, the suspect's identity remains a mystery, and his whereabouts are unknown. Although there are some distinguishing features, in criminal investigation practice, such vague features are almost as good as none at all.

This case will most likely end without a resolution.

This person is unlikely to reappear in the near future.

-

Zhao Jianguo guessed wrong.

The "short" in this "short-term" was shorter than Zhao Jianguo had imagined.

12 Vision Correction

At 8 p.m., Zhao Jianguo went out again.

Several people reported it to the authorities.

Several passersby and a driver.

To passersby, the incident unfolded as follows:

The maintenance of various infrastructure facilities in urban villages is not very good. Near a certain bus stop, a fire hydrant broke and leaked water for several days, leaving a pool of water about ten square meters in size and about five centimeters deep near the bus stop.

That evening, while these passersby were waiting for the bus at this bus stop, a heartless and irresponsible driver, instead of slowing down, sped past as if he were in a hurry to be reborn, turning the puddles into muddy waves that drenched them.

When the cool night breeze blows, the soaked clothes stick to your body, and the feeling is indescribably uncomfortable.

According to the driver, the incident unfolded as follows:

I am not a resident of this area; I was just passing through on business.

Visibility was poor at night, and it hadn't rained for the past few days, so the roads were dry. He had no idea there would be such a large puddle of water next to the bus stop.

The splashing of water when the car drove by was purely accidental; he really didn't do it on purpose.

Who is Zhao Ban? He has been working in the government offices of the Great Yang Dynasty for more than a decade, where public resentment is growing. He has handled more than four figures in cases, big and small.

Upon arriving at the scene, I only glanced at it briefly before forming a judgment in my mind.

Although the infrastructure in this urban village is terrible, the two streetlights near the bus stop are still on, and their dim yellow light is enough to clearly illuminate the asphalt road, the bus stop sign, and even the puddle on the ground that, even though most of it has been swept away, still reflects light.

The puddle was quite large, and its color was clearly different from the dry road surface; it was impossible not to see it under the headlights.

To put it bluntly, the driver was either distracted while driving or simply didn't care about the people waiting for the car on the roadside and was too lazy to step on the brake.

However, while one may have their own judgment, procedurally speaking, this is just a typical dispute where both sides have their own version of the truth.

The driver insists he "didn't see it" and "didn't do it on purpose," what can you do about it?

There is no direct evidence to prove that he acted with malicious intent.

In the end, it will most likely be settled through mediation, with the driver paying some dry cleaning fees to settle the matter.

—If things ended here.

However, the atmosphere at the scene was a bit strange.

The few passersby, their clothes soaked and shivering from the cold, had a hint of excitement on their faces, in addition to their annoyance.

The driver, who was stocky and looked to be in his early thirties, was now flushed, his neck stiff, indignant, and his voice was unusually loud:

"Squad leader! You need to get this straight! I really didn't see anything! They came up and started swearing at me and threatening me! And then...and then they became even more lawless! In broad daylight...no, in the middle of the night, they committed violence in the street! Look at my body, look at my face!"

Zhao Jianguo had noticed long ago that the driver was soaking wet, covered in mud, and had water stains on his face.

At this moment, the driver was extremely agitated, pointing at the passersby with trembling fingers: "It's them! It must be them! They called people to retaliate! There's absolutely no law!"

Several passersby immediately chimed in with their own rebuttals:

"Who's on whose side? We don't know that guy at all!"

"Exactly! You're the one who's so shameless as to splash water all over others, and you still think you're right?"

"That man was just standing up for us because he saw injustice!"

"Taking it out? That's called intentional assault! I want a medical examination! I want to sue him!" the driver shouted even louder.

That's right, there's a second half to the story, and this second half is the real core of tonight's report to the authorities.

Based on the subsequent accounts from passersby, which were a mix of relief and lingering fear, Zhao Jianguo roughly pieced together what happened in the "second half":

After getting soaked, the group of people naturally cursed at the taillights of the departing car.

But the gray sedan didn't stop at all and disappeared at the end of the road in a flash.

Feeling indignant but helpless, one of them took out his phone and called the authorities, not expecting to actually do anything to the person, but simply holding his breath.

Unexpectedly, not long after the call to the authorities ended, while they were wringing out their wet clothes and complaining in low voices, an astonishing scene unfolded.

A young man wearing black-rimmed glasses, a plain black T-shirt, and dark pants walked steadily from the end of the road, as if he were carrying a disobedient chick and pulling someone by the hair.

The person whose hair was being pulled tried several times to pry the hand holding his hair off, but all his efforts were in vain. He could only stagger and was almost dragged to the bus stop.

What happened next is self-explanatory.

Sun Haoran, the young SWAT team member who was on duty with Zhao Jianguo, had already retrieved the surveillance footage from the nearby convenience store.

The surveillance footage was taken from the entrance of a convenience store across the street. The image quality is acceptable and includes a timestamp.

At 20:07:15, a gray sedan sped past the bus stop, splashing a large amount of water. Several people on the platform panicked and dodged, cursing.

At 20:12:43, a young man wearing black-rimmed glasses appeared at the edge of the frame, grabbing a driver who was much more muscular than him with his right hand and forcibly dragging him into the frame from the alleyway outside the camera's view. The driver struggled violently, but the young man's arm was as steady as an iron clamp, and his pace remained perfectly steady.

At 20:17:13, the bespectacled young man dragged the driver to the puddle and let go.

The young man pointed to the murky water shimmering under the streetlights: "Do you see what's here?"

The driver was panting heavily, his eyes darting around. He glanced at the puddle, then quickly scanned the stunned, soaking wet passersby, before finally returning to the young man's face.

The driver clearly recognized the location and understood what the other party meant.

The driver brought up the same excuse he'd used for the express bus: "It's...it's too dark! The streetlights here are no good at all, the light is too dim! When I drove here, I couldn't even see the water!"

The driver spoke loudly, pointing at the two streetlights that were actually bright enough as he spoke, his face full of surprise and grievance.

The young man listened quietly to him finish speaking, then nodded understandingly: "If you can't see clearly, that's understandable."

The driver paused for a moment.

“So,” the young man continued, “I’ll take a closer look for you.”

After saying that, the young man's left hand shot out again with lightning speed, this time not to grab his hair, but to press down directly on the back of the driver's neck.

The driver was quite strong and might have been able to hold his own among ordinary people, but in the hands of the young man, he had no chance to resist at all. In just one moment, this sturdy body weighing over 160 pounds was like a wooden stake that was easily knocked down, face down, and was firmly "planted" into that puddle of water!

Water splashed everywhere.

Although most of the fire hydrant was swept away by a car, the damaged hydrant is still leaking water, and the puddle has accumulated to a depth of about two or three centimeters.

This depth, which normally wouldn't even submerge a child's ankles, was now a hopeless, muddy swamp for the driver whose face was firmly pressed against the rough, wet, cold asphalt.

The driver struggled violently, his instinct for survival instantly overwhelming everything.

He frantically scratched and pressed down on the arm that was pressing down on his neck, but the arm remained as still as if it were made of steel.

He kicked the ground in vain, splashing more mud and water, but could not move his body an inch.

His face was pushed into the water, and his mouth and nose were instantly filled with muddy water.

The surveillance footage clearly recorded this chilling scene:

The driver, whose physique was noticeably more robust, writhed desperately like a fish nailed to a chopping board, each struggle a burst of all his might—the full energy of a dying man.

The bespectacled young man who was suppressing him used only his left hand, his arm not even visibly taut, yet he pressed down steadily on him.

The young man's center of gravity did not change much, and his half-squatting posture was quite casual, as if he was not pressing down on a person, but on a disobedient backpack.

What's even more chilling is the expression on the young people's faces.

The surveillance cameras may not have enough pixels to see all the details, but the calm, almost indifferent, composure was clearly conveyed through the footage.

He even had the gravitas to turn his head slightly and say to the passersby who had gone from smug relief to fear and were instinctively backing away, "Don't worry, he knows what he's doing. If you can't see clearly, just look again. Once you see it clearly, you'll remember it."

A little over a minute.

In the silent yet tense footage of the surveillance camera, time seems to be stretched out.

The driver's struggles gradually became sluggish and weak, his wildly flailing arms moved less and less, and his kicking legs slowly subsided.

The bubbles rising from the water surface became sparse.

Only then did the young man lift his wrist and release the pressure.

The driver suddenly sprang up from the water, letting out a heart-wrenching cough and gasping for breath.

His face and hair were covered in mud and water, which blurred his vision. Snot and tears mixed with mud streamed down his face.

He knelt and lay prone by the puddle, his hands supporting him on the ground, his body heaving violently. Each breath felt like a broken bellows, as if he were coughing up his lungs.

The fear of surviving the ordeal and the extreme physical pain rendered him temporarily unable to speak, leaving only instinctive panting and dry heaving.

The young man stepped back half a step, avoiding the mud splattered when he coughed: "Now, do you see clearly?"

The driver was speechless; he could only cough and nod frantically, as if afraid that if he hesitated even a second, he would be forced back down.

“When you pass by water in the future,” the young man said earnestly, “remember to slow down.”

The driver continued nodding frantically, coughing violently.