If I don't have money to go to college, I can only go to slay the dragon.

Chicago time, 5:32 a.m.

North and South Memorial Hospital, Chicago's South Side.

The running elevator stopped at the fourth floor of the inpatient department. After the elevator door opened, Von Schneider walked out expressionlessly, followed by a group of men and women wearing black windbreakers on both sides behind him.

The inpatient department on the third floor of the North-South Memorial Hospital, which should have been silent, is now as lively as a boiling pot of water. There are noisy footsteps, people's voices, the rustling of pagers, and most of the people walking in the corridor are... Policemen wearing Chicago P.D (Chicago Police Department) uniforms, the incandescent lights in the corridor were so bright that they illuminated the entire corridor without leaving any shadows.

As soon as Schneider walked out of the elevator door, his eye-catching and exaggerated costume attracted the attention of one of the police officers. He walked straight to the elevator entrance and blocked his way: "Chicago P.D., this place has been blocked. Please move over. Other floors.”

Schneider didn't speak, just stared at him expressionlessly. The police officer shuddered for no reason when he met those steel-gray cold eyes, and involuntarily lowered the police badge he raised.

"It's you who should move. This place has been taken over by the relevant departments." Before the police officer could issue another warning, the man in the trench coat on Schneider's left took a step forward: "Inform your superiors to talk to me."

The police officer was a little unsure about the identity of the cold-faced trio who came out of the elevator, but at least after spending a long time in the police station, he had learned a lot about observing people and shirking responsibility. It was definitely not a job he should take. Without touching it, he just hesitated for a moment and picked up the pager on his chest to report: "Uh, deputy director, there are three people here who claim to be from relevant departments who want to see you."

In less than half a minute, an old police officer with gray hair hurriedly walked over from the other end of the corridor. The police badge hanging on his chest had a five-pointed star embedded in the top of the eagle's wings.

"The notice above said that someone would come to handle this case, but I didn't expect that you actually came." The old police officer was the deputy director of Chicago P.D. He wiped his sweat and quietly looked at the strange man wearing an iron mask in front of him. Behind him, he even saw a car containing oxygen bottles.

"Three minutes," Schneider said hoarsely.

"What?" The deputy director didn't understand the meaning for a moment.

"What our minister means is to clear out your people within three minutes, and people from our department will soon be stationed at the scene to take over." The woman in the windbreaker explained.

"Okay, no problem. We have protected the scene very well. You can rest assured that there will be absolutely no damage." The deputy director wiped his sweat and picked up the pager and ordered all the police officers on the floor to evacuate the scene. Schneider and the other three remained silent. The ground passed him deeper into the corridor.

Many police officers looked confused when they received the instructions from the deputy director. Many of them were still doing on-site sampling work and stopped midway and were at a loss. They were awakened by emergency missions in the middle of the night and rushed to the scene. However, Are you ordering evacuation before the work is finished?

When the deputy director's furious roar sounded again, the police officers who had been stunned on the spot picked up their tools and tools and rushed to the safe passage as if they had just woken up from a dream.

Next to the deputy director, the police officer who first stopped the three Schneiders looked at this scene and couldn't help but whisper: "Deputy director, where are those people from? FBI? We don't usually see such a big face to the FBI in our bureau. It can't be someone from the CIA, right? Why would they care about a murder in a hospital?"

"Don't ask so many questions. Our mission is to cooperate with their actions. This is a fatal order from above." The deputy director controlled the volume and shouted back the police officer.

In the corridor, Chicago P.D. police officers, on-site sample takers, and autopsy forensic examiners all evacuated from the safe passage without stopping. The deputy director wiped his sweat and waited until the last police officer left, then he breathed a sigh of relief and glanced at the yellow color deep in the corridor. The cordon prepared to leave.

But at this moment, the sound of neat footsteps suddenly sounded from the safe passage. The deputy director was stunned for a moment and wondered whether those bastards in the bureau didn't understand the order or something, so why did they come back again? He angrily prepared to open the door and scold his subordinates in the corridor, but before he could reach the door, the door to the safe passage was pushed open violently.

All black windbreakers poured into this floor. Everyone was dressed in the same terrifying way. They wore the badge of the half-decayed World Tree on their chests, and their faces were stern, exuding a chilling atmosphere.

There were about twenty or thirty people in black trench coats who poured into the floor. After entering the floor, they began to cordon off the scene without stopping. New cordons were opened continuously. The flashes of cameras kept dazzling people's eyes. Some people were carrying ultraviolet rays. The light scanned every inch of the corridor's floor, searching for traces of something.

It was obvious that the black trench coats were well trained. Even in silence, they could quickly complete the division of labor with just one look at each other. Even if the corridor was overcrowded again, there was no sense of noise at all. Only the sound of footsteps and the rustle of clothing could be heard. Only occasionally could one hear low-volume discussions.

The deputy director who was still at the scene had to admit that the overall quality of the group of 'relevant departments' sent from above was much higher than the Chicago P.D. police officers who were standing on the floor just now. At least he didn't see any of them. Like his subordinates, he was eating hot dogs and yawning at the scene.

The work attitude of all the black trench coats is outrageous, with focused and stern expressions on their faces, as if what they are about to take over is not a murder case that occurred in the hospital in the early morning, but a major crisis related to world security.

In comparison, the deputy director in the director's police uniform stood here like an outsider. Compared to standing stupidly, he felt that having multiple hot dogs in his hand might alleviate the awkward atmosphere. He still remembered the instructions given to him before the mission, which was to protect the scene and not allow anyone to destroy criminal evidence until the relevant departments took over.

At the same time, he was also strictly prohibited from talking to the personnel of the relevant departments for more than ten sentences. After completing the task, he left immediately and was not allowed to stay. But now it was a problem for him to stay here. He stayed there for less than half a minute, and someone in black trench coat was kind to him. He came over and asked him if he was lost. If the elevator downstairs was available, would he like to take him in? He completely ignored the power that his iconic police uniform represented in this city.

But the deputy director could only smile bitterly as he was "invited" into the elevator. The senior official level was overwhelming. You must know that the superiors who directly gave him orders were more than one or two levels higher than him.

After asking all irrelevant personnel to leave, one of the men in black trench coat pressed the headset and reported: "Minister Schneider, all irrelevant personnel have left."

Deep in the corridor, Schneider held down the headset and said coldly: "The on-site investigation team immediately conducted evidence sampling. The blockade team controlled the corridor entrance and did not allow anyone to enter this floor. The environmental control team does not need to apply if they find suspicious people in the surrounding area." , arrest immediately, Frigga bullets are allowed to be used, and live ammunition can be used under special circumstances, everyone, the action begins."

After all the orders were given, a machine called the 'Casel College Execution Department' began to operate. The entire North-South Memorial Hospital was shrouded in black owls with their sharp beaks and claws. From this moment on, Cassel The college officially took over this general hospital on Chicago's south side.

After completing the order, Schneider put down the hand holding the headset and looked forward with cold eyes: "Okay, now let's see how you died, Andre."

Where he looked, in the cordoned off ward, a headless corpse lay quietly in a pool of blood, with a blood-stained half-dead World Tree school emblem pinned to the chest of his coat.

Enforcement Division 'C' Specialist, Andre Rooney, pronounced dead.