How You Can Sue Me for My Crimes in Dreams

The six men all turned to look at Xu Huo.

By now, a crowd of police officers had gathered around Xu Huo. Their faces were grim, and their gazes were fixed on the six men with grave intensity.

”What’s going on? They haven’t left?”

Xu Huo didn’t answer. His heart sank.

’Their current state... they’re most likely on the verge of losing control.’

Six criminals, armed with knives, who feared neither death, the law, nor other people...

’Snipers?’

’There are no snipers. And even if there were, we’d avoid using them if at all possible!’

’Should we just pull our guns and have a few officers unload on them?’

’Are you kidding me? We’re surrounded by a crowd of people who can’t get out. If a shot misses its target and hits a bystander, it’s all over!’

”What do we do? Looking at them, it doesn’t seem like they intend to kill anyone right now.”

Qian Hua grew anxious and asked hurriedly.

It had been just over twenty-four hours since the case was cracked. If they could make the arrests and close the case now, they could avoid much of the punishment from their superiors. At the very least, the internal repercussions wouldn’t be as severe as they feared.

The opportunity was right in front of them. Delays would only bring more trouble.

”Spread out our forces. Control the scene,”

Xu Huo said. He paused, looking at the six men in the standoff. After a moment’s thought, he raised a walkie-talkie.

He held it up, indicating it was a communication device, then forcefully threw it forward—but not too far, making sure it landed some distance away from them.

After a long moment, one of the men stepped out and picked it up.

Xu Huo immediately pulled out another walkie-talkie and adjusted the channel.

”KSHHHT—”

A burst of static crackled and then vanished.

Among the six men, it was Song Si who held the walkie-talkie. He stood in the distance, watching Xu Huo without speaking.

Xu Huo looked back at him, also saying nothing.

He had clearly established a channel of communication, but now that the moment was here, Xu Huo found he didn’t know where to start.

’What to say?’

’Threats or promises?’

’Which would even work?!’

’Threaten them? Believe it or not, they’d start killing people in the next second.’

’Bribe them?’

’These are men with nothing to lose. What’s the use in offering them billions?’

’Are they going to use it as spirit money in the afterlife?’

For a moment, both sides were locked in a stalemate, but they shared a silent understanding and didn’t put down their walkie-talkies.

Until...

”I’m here! What’s the situation!?”

From a distance, Wang Hu’s corpulent figure came running over. He stopped, panting heavily, and wiped the cold sweat from his forehead. Seeing the walkie-talkies in both their hands, he immediately understood the situation.

”Don’t be rash. The police are aware of your demands, and we understand what you’re thinking...”

Wang Hu stood to the side, his voice a low, placating tone over the walkie-talkie.

”Officer, are you trying to save them?”

Before Wang Hu could continue, Song Si’s voice cut in, interrupting him.

Save who?

Tai Su and Zhang Jiacheng, locked in the car!

Wang Hu’s brow furrowed. He thought for a long moment, but just as he was about to speak, the voice came again.

”Do you know how people like them see us?”

Song Si’s voice was completely devoid of emotion. He stood there in the distance, his face a blank mask, watching them in silence.

Wang Hu fell silent.

”These people... they look down on us. No, not just look down... it’s like how a person looks at a pig.”

”A pig is just a tool to be slaughtered for meat. If a pig gets swine fever, what does the farm owner do?”

A slaughterhouse is the most merciless of places.

But a slaughterhouse isn’t necessarily just a place for butchering pigs and cows.

”I’m like a pig in a sty, stuck in a pen full of shit.”

As Song Si’s voice slowly drifted over, the hearts of those listening sank.

Wang Hu wanted to say something, but the words wouldn’t come.

’Why risk your life for a salary of nine hundred? Why not just get a different job?’

’What job could I get? Where would I go?!’

’These days, if you switch factories, you’d be lucky to make five or six hundred a month. Your salary would be cut in half. If you’re the main breadwinner, changing jobs could be a death sentence for your family!’

’Find a factory with higher wages?’

’Where?!’

Even when bosses are at each other’s throats in a life-or-death struggle, they will always find common ground on one thing.

What thing?

Establishing and stabilizing a wage system.

Take, for example, something that came out of the West.

The Sun God Cartel was one such business organization, born in the Western Country in the last century.

When the lightbulb was first invented and the market was expanding wildly, it was a competition of quality. You bought from whoever made the best bulbs. You listened to whoever offered the best value.

But things changed after the Sun God Cartel appeared. They began to create a monopoly.

They squeezed out all competition based on quality. For example, they might mandate that only bulbs lasting 3,000 hours could be sold, while a competitor was selling 5,000-hour bulbs for the same price.

In a case like that, the cartel members would unite and crush the competitor at every level—from raw materials to factories to orders.

Ultimately, the market was stabilized at a point of high prices and low quality.

Anyone who broke this rule, no matter how fierce their battles were in the market otherwise, would be silently and unanimously kicked out.

It’s the same with salaries.

”But...”

”In their eyes, we’re just weeds to be cut down.”

Song Si spoke again, his tone utterly flat.

His words were even punctuated by a cough, but no one doubted that this sickly-looking man was capable of murder.

”But...”

”Have these people ever worked in a field?”

Song Si looked at Wang Hu, at Xu Huo, at everyone around them, and his lips parted.

”They don’t know...”

”...that in the fields, the grass can make you bleed.”

”In some unremarkable corner, if you just brush past it, it can give you a cut sharper than any knife blade!”

The blades of grass are sharp. Sometimes you don’t even see it happen, don’t even feel the pain. In the blink of an eye, you’ve got a cut, and it’s one that’s very difficult to heal.

The blood dripping from their blades proved it.

It was obvious he could do more than just inflict wounds—he could take a life.

”Don’t be rash! Hand those two over to the police. The chemical plant incident is extremely serious. He’s facing a life sentence at a minimum. Because of the chain reaction from this case, it’ll almost certainly be the death penalty!”

Wang Hu took a deep breath, trying his best to persuade them.

Song Si fell silent.

After a long while, he finally replied with a single, crisp word: ”Fine.”

After speaking, the six men took a few steps forward and dropped their knives. Then, Song Si tossed a remote control, the size of one for a television, in front of the police.

They didn’t resist.

Or perhaps, the reason they hadn’t left was because they were lost. After the killing, what were they supposed to do?

Should they run after killing? What was the difference between running and not running?

And so, they hadn’t run.

”Take them away.”

Wang Hu was slightly surprised but gave the order anyway. Several officers behind him immediately moved forward and handcuffed the six men.

The six men offered not a shred of resistance, letting the officers do as they pleased.

Wang Hu finally let out the breath he had been holding.

Xu Huo bent down to pick up the remote, but he paused...

Then, a look of shock crossed his face. He quickly stopped the people beside him who were about to move forward.

”Don’t move! Nobody...”

Before he could finish his sentence, in the next second...

”BOOM!!!”

A sky-shattering explosion erupted as the car at the intersection blew up!

The two men inside, their eyes filled with hope just moments before, were torn apart by the violent force, reduced to chunks of flesh and blood...

A pillar of fire shot into the sky, turning night into day. The heat flushed everyone’s faces red as countless stunned expressions stared blankly at the scene.

Wang Hu stared, stunned. He swallowed hard and instinctively looked back.

He saw Song Si and the others had stopped and turned to watch the scene unfold.

”Sorry, Officer. I forgot. It’s not a remote-detonated bomb.”

Song Si wasn’t surprised at all. A smile spread across his face, his gaunt features twisting into a terrifying grimace.

”It’s on a timer.”

”And time’s up!!!”