Accidental Hero: The Rookie Who Outshines the Force - Chapter 64

Having spotted ten thieves at once, Lu Cheng didn’t rush in blindly. He planned to size up the situation first.

He reached the third floor. The two rooms upstairs mirrored the layout downstairs, and it was highly likely these thieves all knew each other.

If they didn’t, could they live so close without conflict?

Competition ran deep.

Both third-floor rooms had doors tightly shut and curtains drawn—a clear attempt to stay out of the light.

Lu Cheng hesitated: should he call for backup? But the problem was… how could anyone prove there were thieves inside?

Where did this information even come from?

He couldn’t explain that.

After a brief thought, Lu Cheng decided to go solo.

With his system skills, a few petty thieves were nothing.

Sure, one against ten sounded exaggerated, but taking them down one by one was no problem.

Returning to the second floor, Lu Cheng was about to knock on one of the doors when a blue-clad delivery guy walked toward him.

Quickly, Lu Cheng approached and whispered,
“Shh—police!”

He flashed his badge and asked,
“Which apartment are you delivering to? I need a little help…”

The delivery guy, righteous and cooperative, immediately responded,
“Apartment 206.”

Fortuitously, 206 was the very den Lu Cheng had planned to knock on.

“Hand me the delivery. I’ll bring it inside—quickly, get out of here.”

The delivery guy silently slipped away. Lu Cheng knocked on the door:
“Hello, your food’s here.”

“Didn’t I say leave it at the door?!” came the impatient reply.

“Sorry, it spilled. I’ll cover the loss.”

“Damn it! I’m starving! How dare you spill my lunch?!”

Slippers shuffled close. The door cracked open, revealing just a sliver.

A young man in a black T-shirt—the same one Lu Cheng had been tailing—peeked out.

Lu Cheng stood there looking harmless, holding the delivery intact.

The young man eyed him suspiciously.
“You… delivering food?”

“Nope. I’m your dad.”

Lu Cheng smiled innocently.

“W-what…!”

The young man’s anger surged. Just as he was about to shout, Lu Cheng pulled out a gun, pressing the dark barrel into his mouth.

Lu Cheng’s smile vanished. Cold, imposing energy radiated from him:
“Don’t move. Don’t speak, or I’ll blow your head off.”

The young man had never encountered this situation. He was just a petty thief—hardly worth a bullet.

His legs went weak instinctively.

Lu Cheng had practiced at the shooting range the day before; a faint gunpowder scent clung to him.

He’d smeared a little more powder on the gun. Anyone doubting it was real would instantly reconsider—this was a fired gun, with a real smell.

The thief smelled the gunpowder and fear took root; his legs wobbled.

Lu Cheng waved his badge, ordered him to turn around, and put his hands behind his head.

The young man complied obediently.

Lu Cheng pressed the gun to the back of his head and cuffed him securely.

“Squat down. Don’t speak—or taste a bullet.”

He even tapped the young man’s back with the gunstock.

“Ahh—!”

Pain shot through him, but he stifled any sound. Lu Cheng was pleased.

“Hey, what’s taking you so long with the delivery?”

A voice came from inside.

By the time the others reached the door, Lu Cheng was already there.

Same trick, same result.

A black-barreled gun shoved into the mouth of a man in a vest and shorts with a faint mustache.

The man’s eyes widened. He tried to shout, but Lu Cheng grabbed his jaw.

With 23 strength points, Lu Cheng’s grip was like iron, stronger than a laborer with twenty years of experience.

“Shh—police! Don’t make a sound if you want to live!”

The man’s legs gave out.

Lu Cheng secured him with zip ties, stuffed cloths in their mouths, and had them face the wall, squatting silently.

Three more in the neighboring room.

Lu Cheng knocked, repeated the same method, and the sight of the gun turned the three thieves into quivering quails.

Binding them was effortless.

One trick, total domination.

Third floor, same formula, same outcome.

Lu Cheng had brought a bundle of zip ties—enough for ten more thieves.

“I’m Officer Lu. I endorse zip ties.”

Ten thieves squatted in a row, obedient.

The blue-clad ringleader was still resentful. Being caught by a young rookie—one officer against ten thieves—was humiliating.

Though restrained, he kept cursing Lu Cheng.

Lu Cheng didn’t indulge him. He stomped and kicked hard.

The ringleader’s insides trembled, groaning miserably.

Finally, the ringleader froze, silenced.

The others, seeing their leader humbled, stayed quiet.

Lu Cheng gathered them in one room:
“Tell me everything you’ve done. Where’s the stolen stuff?”

“What you confess now is one thing; the police will uncover the rest,” Lu Cheng added.
“Confess now for leniency—start talking.”

The gang crouched low, heads down. Some hands were raw from the zip ties, but no one dared speak.

The ringleader glanced at Lu Cheng, winking, ready to confess.

Lu Cheng removed the cloth from his mouth.
“Talk,” he said, recording on his phone.

The ringleader confessed to half a year of thefts; some loot was still in the apartment.

He even had a safe.

Lu Cheng smacked his head, demanding the code.

Inside: hundreds of thousands in cash, gold watches, chains, bracelets, bottles of Moutai, cigarettes—total value 200-300k.

Likely accumulated over years. The ringleader looked heartbroken.

“Enough for sentencing. Three years minimum.”

The ringleader’s eyes darkened. The others slouched, resigned.

Stealing meant eventually facing the sewing machine in prison—they all knew that.

They had assumed this young officer had backup, but it was just him. One man against ten?

But he had a gun—suddenly it made sense.

The ringleader eyed the gun, asking, “Officer, how many bullets do you have?”

Lu Cheng arched an eyebrow, smirked:
“About a dozen.”

The ringleader nodded. That would be enough.

Then Lu Cheng ejected the magazine, revealing… plastic round pellets.

The thieves were dumbstruck.

A toy gun?!

The ringleader’s temple throbbed with veins. One fake toy gun had cowed ten thieves.

If word got out, their faces were gone.

“You’ve got guts,” the ringleader sneered.

“Do you need a real gun to handle petty thieves?”

Insulted beyond belief, he growled through gritted teeth:
“Step up if you dare!”