3: Chapter 3: The Chief Roars, the Entire City's Police Force Assembles

The bank lobby was deathly silent.

A suffocating pressure permeated the air, as if even the dust had stopped drifting under Qin Feng's aura.

Qin Feng stood before the bulletproof glass; his comical clown mask reflected off the surface, the bright red painted smile appearing more sinister than a reaper's scythe to the onlookers.

He didn't shout; he merely raised his right hand, clad in a half-finger tactical glove, and lightly tapped his index knuckle against the glass twice.

"Tap, tap."

The sound was crisp, even gentle.

Yet to everyone's ears, it was the prelude to a death knell.

From behind his mask, Qin Feng's gaze swept indifferently over the tellers who were already pale with fright, finally settling on Su Tang.

Not wanting to waste words, he casually traced a circle in the air with his prop gun before pointing the muzzle at the open cash drawer. The meaning was clear: pack the money and get moving, don't dawdle.

According to the script, these tellers were supposed to throw out the fake bills printed with "Training Voucher" that had been prepared beforehand. He would then grab two bundles and flee, completing the mission and earning his five-thousand-yuan appearance fee.

However, across from him, Su Tang's mental CPU was about to burn out.

As a terminal "face-con," Su Tang's retinas now came with a level-ten beauty filter.

From her perspective, Qin Feng's casual tapping on the glass was filled with the aesthetics of elegant violence; the way he held the gun pointed at the cash drawer was as precise as a firearms art exhibition; especially those deep, cold eyes behind the mask—even a fleeting glance made her heart skip a beat.

"He tapped the glass... Is he hinting at something?"

Su Tang bit her lower lip hard, her eyes misty. Her heart was racing so wildly it felt like it might break her ribs.

"Fool him with those cheap Training Vouchers? No! That would be an insult to his top-tier bandit aura!"

"How could a master thief of Big Brother's caliber take fake money? That would be a desecration of art!"

Su Tang took a deep breath, as if making a decision that betrayed her ancestors. She suddenly turned around, ignoring the pile of exercise bills on the desk, and with trembling hands, inserted the golden key at her waist into the heavy vault door behind her.

*Click—Vrrr—*

The heavy alloy door slowly opened, and the old, intoxicating scent of ink instantly wafted out.

Then, like a devotee presenting offerings to a deity, Su Tang scrambled to carry stacks of cash out of the vault.

One bundle.

Two bundles.

Ten bundles.

All of them were genuine hundred-yuan bills! This was the bank's cash reserve for daily operations!

The bright red color shimmered dizzily under the cold fluorescent lights.

*Thud! Thud! Thud!*

Su Tang unhesitatingly slammed the heavy bricks of cash onto the counter, and they quickly piled up into a small mountain.

There was roughly fifty million.

This was Su Tang's ultimate tribute to her "idol."

Outside the counter, the expression under Qin Feng's mask froze completely.

Looking at the rising "mountain of money" before him, his eyelids couldn't stop twitching.

"Holy crap?"

"Girl, are you crazy? This is an exercise! Why are you bringing out real money? Do you know a bundle of this could kill someone if it hit them?"

"And... fifty million? That much? If I actually take it, I'll probably collapse from a herniated disc before I even make it out the door!"

Qin Feng ranted inwardly, his hard-earned "cool and aloof bandit" persona nearly crumbling on the spot.

Looking at the piercingly red genuine bills, Qin Feng instinctively felt his throat go dry.

He was a pauper; the most money he'd ever seen was his twelve-hundred-yuan salary from last month. Now, with fifty million right under his nose, the visual impact was enough to send any ordinary person's adrenaline skyrocketing, even if he knew he couldn't take it.

His hand gave an uncontrollable twitch.

It was a physiological, instinctive tremor in the face of immense wealth.

The movement was slight, but under the gaze of high-definition cameras, it had nowhere to hide.

...

Jianghai City Police Headquarters, Command Center.

The massive LED screen magnified this scene in high definition, making even the fine hairs on the back of Qin Feng's hand clearly visible.

"Stop!"

Director Zhao Shanhe waved his hand abruptly, and the noisy command hall instantly fell silent.

"Rewind that footage, slow it down ten times! Freeze it on his right hand!"

The technician's fingers flew across the keys, and the image froze instantly.

On the screen, Qin Feng's right hand holding the gun was undergoing a high-frequency micro-tremor.

Zhao Shanhe stared intently at the screen, his brow furrowed, the flesh on his face twitching slightly.

Beside him, several veteran detectives with thirty years of criminal investigation experience leaned in, their expressions as grave as if they were disarming a nuclear bomb.

"Director Zhao, this hand tremor..." an old detective swallowed hard, his voice dry. "This isn't right."

"You noticed it too?" Zhao Shanhe snorted, a deep sense of wariness flashing in his sharp eyes that had seen countless people.

"Ordinary people's hands shake out of fear; the frequency is erratic, a sign of muscle loss of control."

Zhao Shanhe pointed at the large screen, his finger tapping heavily on Qin Feng's hand, his tone decisive.

"But look at him! This is an extremely rhythmic tremor! This is excitement! This is a bloodthirsty craving!"

"It's like a Siberian wolf that hasn't eaten for three days finally seeing the exposed throat of its prey! He's suppressing the violent impulses in his body! He's forcing down the urge to go on a killing spree!"

A collective gasp echoed through the command hall. "Hiss—"

Every police officer felt a chill run down their spine.

Seeing money didn't make him want to possess it; instead, he was excited by the thrill of the slaughter it would bring?

What level of twisted psychological fortitude was this?

How was this a background actor for an exercise? This was a textbook case of antisocial personality disorder!

"Not only that."

Zhao Shanhe took a deep breath and pulled a cigarette from his pocket, but his hands were shaking too much to light it. Finally, he crushed it in frustration.

"The frequency of his tapping on the glass—two beats per second—this rhythm shows his heart rate remains in a resting state of under 60 beats per minute at all times. Even facing fifty million in cash, his heartbeat didn't falter!"

"This kind of psychological fortitude... I'm afraid even our ace SWAT officers couldn't match it!"

...

Inside the bank lobby.

Qin Feng had no idea the police had analyzed him as a "psycho killer."

His only thought now was: stay calm, stay calm. Just take two bundles for show, then get "arrested" according to the script and clock out.

To hide the embarrassment of his hand tremor and to bolster his courage, Qin Feng subconsciously raised the prop gun in his hand.

This gun was issued by the crew, a high-quality replica of a Glock 17. It felt heavy and quite realistic.

[Passive Skill Triggered: Grandmaster-level Firearm Proficiency]

The moment his fingers touched the cold body of the gun, Qin Feng's aura changed.

It was a strange feeling, like a master who had played the piano for decades touching the keys, or a top chef gripping a kitchen knife.

It was a muscle memory ingrained into his very marrow.

*Click—*

With a flick of his wrist, Qin Feng pulled back the slide with one hand, performing a perfectly standard "press check."

Then, he ejected the magazine, checked the rifling, reset it, and chambered a round.

The series of movements was as smooth as flowing water, so fast they left afterimages in the air.

There were no wasted motions; every step was precise to the micrometer.

That level of proficiency made the gun seem less like metal and more like an extension of his own body.

"The weight of this gun is off; it's 3.5 grams too light."

This thought naturally popped into Qin Feng's head, and his brow furrowed slightly, showing a hint of disdain.

He didn't even look at the gun; he judged the prop's flaws purely by feel.

And this micro-expression of "disdain" was once again faithfully broadcast to the world by the live stream cameras.

...

"My God..."

At the police command center, SWAT Captain Xiahou Dun practically bounced out of his chair.

This tough guy with bulging muscles, who had won the provincial fighting championship, was now staring wide-eyed at the screen as if he'd seen a ghost.

"This... this is impossible!"

Xiahou Dun pointed at the screen, his voice cracking: "A one-handed press check? A blind reset? This is muscle memory that can only be developed by firing tens of thousands of rounds in active combat units!"

"Even in my assault team, no more than three people can make those movements look that smooth!"

"And that look of disdain!" Xiahou Dun felt his scalp go numb. "He's looking down on that gun! He saw it was a fake at a single glance! But he's still holding it—what does that mean?"

"It means that even a fake gun, in his hands, can become a lethal weapon!"

Zhao Shanhe's face had turned as black as the bottom of a pot.

If the previous guesses were just suspicions, then this display from Qin Feng was ironclad evidence.

Would an ordinary background actor do a one-handed press check?

Would an ordinary citizen have eyes that look at people like they're already dead?

This was definitely a big fish! A big fish enough to shock Interpol!

*Bang!*

Zhao Shanhe couldn't hold back any longer and slammed his hand on the table. This time he used too much force, and the thermos that had been with him for years was knocked over, spilling tea everywhere.

"Enough! Everyone, stop!"

Zhao Shanhe's eyes were bloodshot like an enraged lion as he roared into the microphone:

"I order the danger level of this operation to be raised to the highest level immediately! Red Alert! I repeat, Red Alert!"

"Notify the SWAT Team to replace all the rubber bullets used for the exercise!"

"Switch to live ammunition! Snipers, load High-explosive armor-piercing rounds!"

"Tell the negotiators to put on their thickest bulletproof vests before going in! Notify the demolition team to be ready to cut all power around the bank at any time!"

"This is not an exercise! This is a terrorist attack targeting Jianghai City!"

"This is a declaration of war by an international master thief against us police!"

"Move! Move! Move! Within five minutes, I want to see the SWAT Team surrounding this place so tightly that not even a fly can get out!"

...

Sirens suddenly blared, tearing through the city's sky.

The entire police machinery of Jianghai City began to operate frantically, as countless vehicles with flashing red and blue lights converged on the bank like a steel torrent.

Meanwhile, in the center of the bank lobby.

Qin Feng, the instigator of it all, was looking at the pile of money with worry.

He had no idea that they were practically driving tanks over outside; he just felt that life was being too hard on a little kitten like him.

Qin Feng sighed, pulled over a large black cloth bag, and while stuffing the heavy bills inside, he cursed inwardly:

"Damn director, couldn't even find a better screenwriter."

"Giving me this much money—it's heavy as hell. If I twist my ankle while running later, does it count as a workplace injury?"

"Sigh, for five thousand yuan, is it easy for me?"

He weighed the heavy bag in his hand and glanced at the increasingly dense sound of sirens outside, his mouth twitching helplessly under the mask.

"Whatever, if you're going to act, go all the way."

Qin Feng picked up the bag filled with fifty million in cash and casually slung it over his shoulder, his movements as suave as an old man who had just finished shopping at a vegetable market.

He turned, facing the hostages who were already paralyzed with fear on the ground, and tilted his head slightly.

His deep gaze through the mask carried an arrogance that looked down upon the world.

In reality, he just wanted to ask:

"Is there a back door nearby? I need to get out quickly so the police can catch me."