North American Detective: I am Proficient in All Kinds of Gun Quick Draws Chapter 106 - 97 Conclusion, New Case1

Seeing this familiar gesture, Dean realized An Bei had switched personalities again. It seed the pressure he had put on An Bei was considerable, causing An Bei to not even dare face him with his normal deanor. But this version of An Bei isn’t well-behaved at all!

Dean, holding a gun, made way at the entrance. "Turn left and go straight. Your target is right there."

The assassin An Bei, his eyes emotionless, glanced at the gun in Dean’s hand. Moving with a relaxed rhythm, almost like a dance glide, and with a backpack slung over his shoulder, he approached the passage and Dean.

As they crossed paths, Dean made no move.

But then!

His right hand, holding the gun, swung down hard like a steel pipe.

The assassin An Bei was on guard. However, trapped in the entranceway with his back turned, he could only raise his hand in a feeble attempt to block, even as several dark, short spikes shot out from his sleeve.

THUD!

The assassin An Bei, his arm fractured, slamd hard into the cold wall.

Dean looked with so trepidation at the three steel spikes embedded in his chest, then took two strides in one and slapped An Bei across the face. "Change back for , now!"

The clown mask, along with two teeth, flew off.

As if insensible to pain, the assassin An Bei raised his head, his mouth full of blood, and let out a strange laugh. "KYEH..."

SMACK!

Dean delivered another hefty slap.

No matter which personality you are, I’ll slap you awake!

After two slaps, An Bei’s originally delicate right cheek was swollen like a pig’s head.

As the third slap was about to land on the other side, An Bei frantically begged for rcy, "Stop hitting! I’m normal now!"

Because one side of his mouth and his teeth were affected, he slurred his words.

"Good that you’re normal." Dean lowered his raised arm. "I guess it hurts now, huh? Do you want to live?"

Wincing in pain, An Bei picked up his teeth. He then took out a bottle and dripped so of its liquid onto the blood on the ground before turning his head. "Of course, I want to live! But do you know? In the underworld right now, the bounty for killing has risen to fifty million US dollars. Capturing alive is a hundred million! And that price was from this morning."

It was a known fact that even the presidents of so small countries were valued at only between ten and thirty million US dollars on the black market.

As for the leaders of major nations... emmm... Nobody dared to post bounties for them.

"You’re worth that much now?"

Dean was sowhat tempted. A living An Bei would expose him, but a dead one would work too. Fifty million US dollars! Considering Dean had shot Nathan and the others without hesitation for just over three million, eight hundred thousand US dollars, it was clear his bottom line wasn’t very high.

Realizing this, An Bei patted the backpack behind him. "Don’t get any ideas! This is packed with high-concentration explosives. I’m thinking of using this chance to fake my death and escape!"

"Fine, then."

Dean agreed, though conflicted. "Get those kids out of here."

An Bei nodded and walked back inside with his backpack.

「A mont later.」

A group of children, still in protective gear, fled screaming from the underground base.

After confirming no one else was inside, Dean threw his handgun into the passageway and pressed the door button. As the base door was closing, he dashed out.

An Bei didn’t have the base’s passcode. Now, even if he wanted to get out, he couldn’t.

Dean carefully composed his expression before joining the children outside, a look of lingering fear on his face.

「At that mont.」

Monet, Hawk, and the others were in a pitiful state. They had been ambushed by an incredibly brazen An Bei, and all had their left and right hands injured. They were cowering in a room, calling for backup.

Monet’s face was ashen. He knew why Assassin V had suddenly appeared here. They were dood. Although he didn’t understand why Assassin V hadn’t killed them, Dean was trapped in the underground base, and it was uncertain if he could make it out alive.

「Just then.」

Hawk suddenly looked out the window. "Look! A bunch of people in white are running out... FK, that’s Dean! He’s not dead!"

"Dean!"

Monet imdiately pushed past the officers at the door, kicked it open, and ran out, shouting, "Dean, over here!"

Dean looked towards the sound, then shouted in feigned horror, "Run! A lunatic in a mask just barged in! He killed all the guards inside and is setting up explosives!"

"Explosives!"

"There’s a base down there!"

"FK!"

No one dared to hide any longer; they all turned and fled in panic.

They passed by the group that had been detained earlier. A kind-hearted patrol officer even warned them, causing that group to find a surge of adrenaline, send the wooden door flying, and join the escape.

When everyone was nearly a kiloter away from Lincoln Farm...

BOOM!

A thunderous explosion erupted, accompanied by a cloud of dust shooting into the sky. Large swaths of land collapsed inward, completely burying the underground base, a place brimming with evil.

Dean watched the cataclysmic scene before him. I wonder if I’ll ever see An Bei again... he mused. That personality-splitting freak still owes three promises.

He had a feeling. This guy wouldn’t die so easily. Because he still hadn’t given him the money he’d promised would last a lifeti!!!

"Madman!"

"That’s a madman!"

Monet sat on the ground in misery, his hands soaked with blood.

Hawk and the others were in a similar state. An Bei’s marksmanship rivaled Dean’s, his shots piercing the thick muscles of everyone’s upper arms. Although they would recover, and it wouldn’t necessarily affect their future ability to hold guns, taking care of their daily lives would be quite troubleso in the short term.

"The guy was indeed crazy," Dean said, pointing to the three iron nails on his chest. "But for so reason, he didn’t kill . Instead, he told to get lost. Luckily, I was wearing a bulletproof vest; otherwise, I’d be just like you guys now."

The group of ’residents’ who had narrowly escaped looked at the collapsed Lincoln Farm and silently departed. They had confird that sothing disastrous had definitely befallen the Carn Family. Now they needed to find a new way out and had to leave with their families as soon as possible. They had no ti to bother with these cops.

「Half an hour later.」

A large number of police cars and ambulances arrived at the scene.

As Monet was being lifted onto a stretcher, Dean whispered in his ear, "Captain..."

He vaguely recounted so of what happened, careful not to reveal too much knowledge, yet he let slip key information: the Anda Group, the automated machines, and the na "Intoxication."

As ti passed, without the Carn Family’s suppression, those distribution channels that had lost their supply would undoubtedly start frantically inquiring about the source of "Intoxication." Soon, it would no longer be a secret.

Monet was incredibly excited by this news, montarily forgetting his gunshot wounds. He had Dean help him dial a phone number saved under the Chinese Pinyin ’Qiu’.

「After a mont.」

Monet, his face flushed with excitent, told Dean to wait for his return. They were about to make a fortune!

The only regret Dean had was that the explosion of the underground base hadn’t yielded any Experience Points—probably because too many people were involved in the cris there, too many for him to kill or capture. This made him sowhat glad he had joined the Homicide and Robbery Division instead of mooching off Eve. What suited the panel best were homicide cases, after all.

「A few days later.」

「As December approached.」

Dean took a leave of absence and went with his mother and younger siblings to the cetery. He placed a bouquet of flowers before the gravestone of his father in this life.

Today marked the ninth anniversary of Dean’s dad’s death.

Looking at his crying mother, Sheila, Dean silently lit a cigarette.

Though he had yet to figure out who had killed his predecessor’s father, considering the connection between the forr coroner Santoni and the Carn Family, the culprits were likely mbers of the Carn Family. Now, he had avenged half of the grudge. As for the remaining half, Dean planned to wait until he beca stronger before slowly settling scores with the remaining mbers of the Carn Family. He would kill them one by one. Eventually, soone would know the truth of what happened that year!

「After returning ho.」

The mood in the house was still sowhat gloomy.

Sinclair was doing okay. She had only been three years old when their dad died and had few mories of him.

Thompson was different. He had been seven at the ti, an age when he idolized his father the most.

Seeing this, Dean pulled out a wad of US dollars. "Don’t be sad. Dad in heaven would certainly want us to live better and better. This is my bonus from last month. Co on, let’s all go out and have a good ti today!"

"Can we go to Demi Castle?" Sinclair asked, her eyes full of hope.

"Of course, we can!" Dean replied, glancing at Sheila and Thompson, who was secretly listening. He raised his voice, "Not just the castle, but also the Third Street Pronade in Santa Monica! We can buy lots of things and have fun all day!"

"Wow, I heard they have the complete set of Star Wars assembly models there!" Thompson exclaid, his interest piqued.

When Sheila heard "Third Street Pronade in Santa Monica," much of the sadness on her face dissipated. It was a famous shopping street in Los Angeles, ho to stores from all the world’s luxury brands. The key was, this was Dean’s kind gesture. Dressing up in designer clothes for gatherings with her friends, then casually revealing it was a gift from her second son, Dean... tsk tsk, just imagining that scene was exciting... She was thrilled as well.

「The enjoyable day ended.」

Feeling satisfied that he had protected the tranquility of his family, Dean went to the detective bureau, ready to read and slack off.

Monet, that old whitey, hadn’t even recovered from his previous injuries before adding two new gunshot wounds; it would probably be a month or two before they saw him again.

Old Hunter and Robert, on the other hand, had already been discharged from the hospital. They had no serious injuries to bones or tendons, and after more than ten days of healing, their wounds no longer affected their movents.

Only the unlucky Phoebe had not yet returned to the team.

And it wasn’t just her. Lawrence had also taken leave. He had accompanied Phoebe to Korea.

The missing flesh on Phoebe’s face was in a tricky spot, and after consulting several plastic surgery hospitals, most said it would be difficult to restore it to its original state.

Out of kindness, Dean had suggested Phoebe try Korea. Plastic surgery was advanced there; she might have a chance.

Lawrence, still clinging to hope, borrowed a considerable sum of money from Dean and set off with Phoebe.

The Fourth Squad was now a motley crew of the injured and slackers, looking quite pathetic. In such a situation, obviously, Dean couldn’t afford to be absent and head to the FBI training base for two weeks.

「In the afternoon.」

Old Hunter took Robert to the hospital to change their dressings.

Dean was listlessly reading a book, Harry was openly playing the latest strategic monster-slaying and leveling-up ga, and Daisy was intently watching television.

BRRRING!

The landline, silent for many days, rang!

SLAP!

Dean tossed aside his book, slapped the desk, and shot to his feet!

A case had finally co!