The robber almost cursed out loud, then caught a glimpse of the book in his hand. On the cover, a seductive bunny girl blew a kiss, and the title read:

"On the Innate Comprehensive Judgment and the Role of Binary Opposition in Promoting Voluntary Vasectomy Among Men."

The blurb on the book band was bursting with enthusiasm: A profound masterpiece! First edition! World-class university! Philosophy PhD graduation thesis!

By Ethan White.

"..." The robber, holding his submachine gun, thought to himself, Which idiot with a screw loose wrote this? Could you really graduate with a thesis like that?

Ethan White observed his expression and felt he might have found a kindred spirit. Sincerely, he offered the book forward: "Want to buy a copy? The author's ideas are really sharp."

"Get lost!" The robber, finally finding an outlet for his pent-up rage, flung the book far away: "—Put your hands up! Get down on the ground!!"

On the ground, in the control tower.

The control room door banged open. The staff at the monitoring station all turned around nervously, only to see Brian Sullivan stride in, his face cold as frost.

Behind him, several security guards with special abilities were escorting a staggering figure—none other than William Bolton.

"Inspector Sullivan!" The negotiation expert hurried forward, looking grim. "We just made contact with the robber David Bolton. He demands the immediate release of his accomplice William Bolton. His attitude is extremely tough, almost impossible to persuade. We've tried everything, but nothing works..."

"Have his family been contacted?"

The negotiation expert replied with difficulty, "David Bolton's mother was stabbed to death by him when he was thirteen. His father's whereabouts are unknown."

Everyone's expressions were indescribable.

Brian Sullivan waved his hand to show he understood, then walked to the monitoring station and took the headset, asking air traffic control, "How much longer will the fuel last?"

The old leader's brows furrowed deeply: "The reserve fuel is enough for another thirty minutes of maneuvering. The key issue now is the fear that the hijacker might deliberately crash the plane into a busy area or residential district..."

Brian Sullivan nodded and put on the headset.

The glow from several monitor screens illuminated his resolute profile. His voice was steady and clear: "This is Brian Sullivan from the Shenhai City Supervision Office. What are your demands?"

"..." On the other end of the communicator, static crackled. After a moment, David Bolton's cold voice came through:

"Inspector Sullivan, I've heard a lot about you."

The cockpit door was wide open. The old captain lay unconscious on the floor. The young co-pilot's hands were trembling as he forced himself to focus on the instrument panel, even though blood was streaming down and blinding his left eye.

David Bolton stood behind the pilot's seat, one hand seemingly casually pressing down on the co-pilot's head—he was so burly it was frightening, even his hand muscles were unusually developed. With just a twist, he could snap a person's head clean off at the neck.

"I have three conditions. Listen carefully," David Bolton said coldly. "First, release William Bolton immediately."

Brian Sullivan glanced back. William Bolton was slumped in the corner, limbs convulsing, with several Supervision Office espers pointing guns at his head.

"Second, prepare a car and one hundred million in cash, old bills. I will randomly take a few female passengers with me." David Bolton's tone in the earpiece was vicious: "Don't even think about tampering with the car or the money, or tomorrow you'll receive the heads of all the hostages. Understood?"

Brian Sullivan remained calm: "And the third?"

David Bolton let out a cold laugh.

"Third, I want you to lift the supervision on all evolvers in the Shenhai City Supervision Office, remove their collars, destroy their records, and release them back into society."

"I want you to give them their freedom, completely."

The surroundings fell silent for a moment.

Even the uniformed supervisors' expressions shifted, their eyes growing complicated as they couldn't help but look toward Brian Sullivan at the monitoring station.

Yet, under everyone's gaze, that upright figure didn't move a muscle, not even a hint of emotion in his tone:

"Surrender. I refuse all three of your conditions."

The people around instantly changed color.

In fact, anyone in this situation would have to refuse, because once David Bolton was allowed to land, there would be no way to apprehend him at the airport. He would simply escape with the hostages—over the past five years, various crimes committed by espers had already taught police worldwide many painful lessons.

But no one expected Brian Sullivan to be so decisive, not even pretending to hesitate or consult anyone, making the decision outright.

"Do you know what you're saying, Inspector Sullivan?" David Bolton squeezed out through gritted teeth.

"Do you know who you're dealing with, David Bolton?"

"..."

Brian Sullivan said, "I am the Shenhai City Supervisor, the only one authorized to sacrifice a few lives to ensure the safety of the entire city."

In the cockpit, David Bolton glared at the intercom, his lips trembling.

"If you surrender now, I can guarantee all of you will serve life sentences without risk to your lives. But if you start a massacre, I will make sure you hear every detail of William Bolton's torture and death."

"I will not give you the chance to crash the airliner into the city. The jamming aircraft is already airborne, and a guided missile is ready to launch at any moment, prepared to turn you and the entire plane to dust."