Yang Huiru was clutching a gun in her hand, crawling on the ground, vigorously making her way towards the police car.
The sniper kept firing; she could only try to find the sniper's blind spots to crawl forward.
She was tired, enduring the pain of her legs rubbing against the ground. Each step was difficult; the ground was littered with shards of glass from car windows. As soon as her hand touched them, it was cut, and blood immediately started to flow.
On the phone, Fan Haiming had already contacted Yang Huiru. The order she received was absolute: do not let the gangsters approach the prison transport vehicle. No matter what, she would try her utmost to prevent the thugs from coming one step closer to the vehicle.
Now, it would still be a while before the police could arrive, and Yang Fan was all the hope they had.
...
"Having fun?"