Because in that way, when he issues subsequent orders, the pressure and resistance will be reduced.
Qian Huan’s face was extrely grim, he took a few deep breaths and asked, "What’s the status of all exit channels in Death Row?"
The technical prison guard replied, "At the very first mont of the riot, Supervisor Zhao ordered them sealed off."
The technical prison guard adjusted the surveillance footage, revealing three corridors leading to other areas, where the machine guns inside the walls had already extended, aiming at every position in the hallway without any dead angles.
And behind the machine gun positions were fully ard prison guards, loaded with guns and ammunition, ready to rush in and suppress indiscriminately at any given order.
No, using "suppress" seems too mild, it should be described as "bloodbath".
Qian Huan mused that the outco of the bloodbath was self-evident; in the blood-stained ss under their soles, who could tell which was from the prisoners and which from the hostage guards?
Qian Huan’s eyes were sinister as he looked down at Zhao Xing at his feet, as if he could see through, beneath the other’s palm, the arc erging at the corner of his mouth.
"Pretty ruthless!"
Qian Huan realized he had ultimately underestimated these prison chiefs, he hadn’t imagined these chiefs would go as far as using such insane tactics to secure their positions and force him into resignation.
Hurt the enemy eight hundred, injure oneself a thousand?
Qian Huan felt like a "king" on a chessboard cornered, with any move leading to a wrong path, a dead end!
If given ti, Qian Huan might not have failed in devising a way out of the predicant.
However, the "screaming chicken" sounds intermittently emanating from the surveillance screen were like the sand in an hourglass beside the board, reminding him ti was running out.
There was no ti to think, he had to place his move imdiately.
Qian Huan’s brows furrowed into a knot, first glancing at Shi Wuming, who was following behind him, and asked in a low voice:
"Can you get the guards inside out?"
Shi Wuming’s modified implants were geared towards killing, not saving, though he felt that, relying on his might, rescuing one or two guards before prisoners acted wasn’t difficult.
However, he couldn’t find a reason to do so.
His contract with Qian Huan included only protecting the latter’s personal safety, not carrying out tasks for him.
Shi Wuming shook his head expressionlessly, "Prison Director Qian overestimates , with so many prisoners, just killing them would take a while, where’s the ti for rescue?"
Qian Huan received the expected answer, his inner illusions were completely shattered, in his eyes, Shi Wuming was the person with the highest Combat Power in the Second Prison, certified by his [Bone Detection Eye].
If Shi Wuming said it was impossible, then it was indeed impossible.
Shi Wuming perhaps felt his response was too cold, after thinking it over, he quickly wore a warm smile, adding:
"Though I can’t rescue anyone, I can help you mark out the high-risk individuals among the death row inmates."
Qian Huan’s eyes flashed with irritation, he scoffed lightly and said, "Thanks for your kind offer, it’s not necessary."
Of course, Shi Wuming’s help wasn’t free, it was charged per headcount; although Qian Huan was generous, he wasn’t willing to spend on a bunch of dead people.
It didn’t matter how these death row inmates broke free of heavy shackles, or how they regained so blood and Martial Arts strength, facing structured firepower later, the more wildly they smiled at the cara now, the harsher their deaths would be.
Qian Huan didn’t doubt this because the prison’s initial design anticipated potential riot risks.
The geographical layout was the most straightforward, rectangular corridors, where every corridor was narrow and straight, such a structure naturally limited the space for Martial Arts displays but hugely enhanced the destructive power of firearms.
It can be said that this layout naturally restricted Martial Arts maneuver space, while heavily enhancing firearms’ damage potential.
And usually, prison guards didn’t carry guns while patrolling, aning, the rioting prisoners in Death Row at this mont had only their flesh and blood as weapons, alongside electric batons snatched from guards.
When Qian Huan asked Shi Wuming, Feng Mu had already quietly collected everyone’s phones.
Qian Huan noticed Feng Mu, suddenly brightened up, and asked, "Feng Mu, do you have any good ideas?"
Feng Mu knew what Qian Huan was asking, and indeed in his mind, there were upper, middle, and lower strategies brewing - an evil way, a deceitful way, and a mad way.
From the strategy nas alone, clearly, none were suitable for outsiders to hear.
Most importantly, this ti Feng Mu didn’t want to help the Prison Director; he too wanted to push the Prison Director a bit.
He felt the Prison Director had beco slightly lax recently, not as maniacal as before; that wasn’t good, it invisibly slowed down Feng Mu’s own pursuit of progress.
And this sudden prison riot, in Feng Mu’s eyes, was no less than an intense stimulant.
Nearing a hundred guards’ deaths, once attributed to the Prison Director, he wouldn’t have a choice but to go berserk.
Soone about to transform into madness, Feng Mu was happy to see it happen, he couldn’t find any reason to stop it.
Oh, not quite, Feng Mu was a compassionate person, deep down he did feel sowhat sorry for those death row inmates about to die.
But, Feng Mu vested deep hopes in the Prison Director, much like Feng Ju vested hopes in Feng Yuhuai, Feng Mu was also willing to bear so losses to help Qian Huan grow better.
No choice, growth is cruel like that, it inevitably cos with asking from others.
The world’s rule is such, and the prison as a large family is no exception, Feng Mu wanting to accelerate Qian Huan’s growth into sothing taller and crazier ant he must, with a heavy heart, let other family mbers sacrifice, beco the fertilizer nourishing Qian Huan’s growth.
In the past, Feng Ju treated Feng Mu this way; only, Feng Ju’s attitude was too cold and utilitarian, very disheartening, while Feng Mu was different, he was a warming person.
Feng Mu’s face was full of intense grief; he looked at Qian Huan, sighed deeply, and said:
"Prison Director, I know the upcoming decision is very difficult for you, but no matter what decision you make, I will support and understand."
Feng Mu paused for a mont, then looked up at the panoramic view on the large surveillance screen, taking in the faces of prisoners and guards alike.
His expression was slightly changing, with grief, his voice sounded a bit choked, hoarse:
"And I think they will all understand you as well!"
Feng Mu didn’t cry heart-wrenchingly like Zhao Xing, but that kind of restrained sadness forcibly held back was equally moving, and appeared more sincere and genuine.
Qian Huan took a deep look at Feng Mu, seemingly encouraged by his words, gaining a sense of responsibility and courage to grow, while the surrounding guards also felt a comforting power.
Only, they were still too shallow, unable to truly perceive the power in Feng Mu’s words.
Those whom Feng Mu referred to, were not just them whom they assud, but those beyond them as well...
This was such a profound love!!!
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