Then came a larger wave of police, their guns drawn and aimed straight at them. Taylor was utterly petrified. Forget whether Wind's men were carrying real guns or not—those black barrels in the hands of the police? Those were real. When Taylor saw Wind about to step forward, he panicked. He grabbed Wind's arm and whispered anxiously, “Dude, don’t do anything crazy!” Taylor had already noticed that Wind wasn’t armed. No matter how good he was in a fight, there was no way he could dodge that many guns. Wind glanced at Taylor. For once, he gave him a small nod and patted his hand. “Don’t worry. I know what I’m doing.” He had seen Taylor earlier, stepping forward to block the knife aimed at Arthur. That left a good impression. Taylor saw the calm in Wind’s expression and slowly released his grip. Wind faced the ring of guns without a hint of fear. “I was the one who called the police!” he announced loudly. “What?!” Everyone turned to look at him in shock. He was the one who brought armed men. Wasn’t that basically terrorism? And he was saying he called the cops? Even the officers looked stunned. Wind didn’t care about their reactions. He reached into his jacket, pulled out a small black booklet, and flipped it open for the police to see. They were too far to make out what it was. Their squad leader signaled behind him.Two officers, guns still raised, cautiously moved toward Wind. He stood tall and calm, offering no resistance as they approached. Only after seeing he wasn’t going to fight back did the two officers relax slightly. But when they finally saw the document in his hand—they froze. No way. They stared at the writing on the card, completely stunned. A moment later, they quickly lowered their weapons—then stood at attention and saluted Wind with full military formality. Everyone watching was dumbfounded. All eyes turned to the two officers, disbelief written across every face. Was this man... from some secret police division? He sure didn’t look like it. His outfit, his demeanor—none of it matched. Wind nodded slightly in acknowledgment but said nothing. The two officers turned and signaled the rest of their team: All clear. The armed squad stared, bewildered. “What the hell’s going on?” one of them muttered. The squad leader frowned, replying under his breath, “I don’t know either.” Still confused, the two officers turned back to Wind and spoke respectfully. “Sir, would it be possible for our captain to examine your credentials?” Wind didn’t make things difficult. He simply nodded and handed over the document. They took it carefully, saluted again, and jogged back toward their squad leader. The onlookers were more confused than ever. Who was this guy, that even the armed police were treating him with such deference?The two officers reached their captain. As he looked down at the card, his eyes went wide. He read aloud, barely able to speak. “This... this is a firearm license!” A firearm license. In Lioran, the only people allowed to hold such a certificate—aside from the military and police—were those who had made major contributions to the nation. Those who had risked their lives for Lioran. Only the highest authority in Lioran could grant this license. This man... who was he? Even among the police, many officers had never seen one of these licenses in their entire careers. Because in Lioran, outside of officially sanctioned law enforcement, civilians were strictly forbidden from owning firearms. The captain snapped out of his daze and quickly holstered his weapon. He waved to his team. “Put the guns away. Now!” They were still confused, but an order was an order—they complied. Holding the precious document carefully, the captain jogged over to Wind. And then, with absolute respect, he presented the license back with both hands. Only once Wind had accepted it did the captain snap to attention and salute him. Anyone with a license like that had earned the gratitude—and honor—of the entire Lioran people.