Dozens of police officers armed with submachine guns burst into the operating room.
Four or five officers, their faces grave, pressed gun barrels against Ye Xuan's temple, shouting over and over, "Drop your weapon, drop your weapon right now!"
Ye Xuan's gaze was cool and indifferent. He chuckled, looking at the officers coldly, his eyes filled with disdain.
If Cui Xiaoman weren't here, Ye Xuan wouldn't have given those officers the chance to hold a gun to his temple at all.
What's a submachine gun, anyway?
Ye Xuan could kick and break a gun barrel with one leg. As for bullets, as long as Ye Xuan used the perception of the Sixth Sense, he could easily dodge them.
The only reason he refrained from resisting was because Cui Xiaoman was here.
Ye Xuan could confront the armed police, but Cui Xiaoman could not.
Even a stray bullet could kill Cui Xiaoman.
"I suggest you move the gun away from my head unless you want to regret it later."
