North American Detective: I am Proficient in All Kinds of Gun Quick Draws Chapter 517 - 3032

"Father, I’ve had enough of you..."

Unfortunately, the man was already exhausted from a day’s work. After returning ho, he’d made two fresh protein contributions and had long since been worn out. Comfortably asleep under the hot water and Selica’s ministrations, he simply couldn’t respond to his favorite daughter.

Selica silently walked to the bathroom mirror, took out the shabby hair dryer she had prepared earlier from the drawer below, plugged it in, and then, without any hesitation, tossed the other end of the cord directly into the bathtub.

UGH!

The man’s body convulsed, and he jerked awake from a pleasant dream, looking bewilderedly at his daughter. In a desperate burst of potential, his large, uncontrollable hand reached out to her, hoping for help. All he received was his daughter’s indifferent gaze...

Only when the man was completely still did Selica unplug the hair dryer. She took a family portrait from her clothes, returned to the bathtub, and with a small knife, cut a deep gash across an artery in her arm. Placing the photo on her chest, she embraced the man’s lifeless body, her eyes staring blankly at the ceiling as she waited for death to arrive...

Selica had wanted to commit suicide for a long ti.

In the end, it was the principal’s leniency that had given her the courage.

Outside the bathroom.

Dean saw the " 50 Experience Points" notification flash in his mind and withdrew the hand he’d had ready to open the bathroom door.

The tragic beginning was destined for a tragic end.

So few experience points...

He sighed, turned, and disappeared into the night.

「」

He drove back to Los Angeles overnight.

After a night of passion.

Dean embraced a satisfied-looking Niel, whispering sweet nothings.

Niel rubbed her sore waist. "How’s the case going? Smoothly?"

"Of course, it went smoothly. The evaluation won’t be great, but the goal was achieved," Dean said, pulling out a cigarette, ready for a post-coital smoke.

Niel rolled her eyes at Dean, snatched the cigarette from his hand, then tossed him a box from the bedside table. "Use this."

Dean took the box, puzzled. "What’s this?"

"It’s my gift to you for becoming a detective and successfully completing your first case. Open it and see," Niel said, looking at Dean expectantly.

Dean hadn’t expected Niel to go for this kind of surprise.

Curious, he opened the box to find a handso pipe and a small bottle of tobacco.

Dean picked up the pipe, put it to his lips, adopted a gentlemanly pose, and joked to Niel, "Oh, my beautiful lady, I am Dean Hols. Pray tell, how may I be of service?"

"Haha, Hols isn’t nearly as handso as you."

Niel’s eyes lit up at the sight of Dean with the pipe. Her fatigue vanished, replaced by a surge of energy, and she pounced on him, a playful flurry of teeth and claws...

One had to admit, role-playing was enjoyed by n and won alike.

「」

After their playfulness subsided, an exhausted Niel briefly told Dean what she had been doing recently.

With money paving the way, she had already assembled a professional team across the United States. Their task was to find poorly-run pharmaceutical companies to audit and negotiate with, aiming for direct acquisition to begin Wei Ge’s developnt.

The rich kid, Ross, had also provided so help with this.

Once he finished his own business, he planned to return to Los Angeles to et up with Niel, an acquaintance, and focus his energy on the pharmaceutical research Dean had ntioned.

The fellow was rather idle; now married, he was ready to start his own business.

As Niel talked, she fell asleep in Dean’s arms.

Dean kissed her forehead gently, carefully got out of bed, and opened his laptop.

To be honest, he wasn’t particularly interested in making money.

With his abilities and connections to the Mafia Families in New York, forgetting truly big money, tens of millions were still easy for Dean to acquire.

His primary reason for wanting to establish a massive pharmaceutical company was self-protection.

The United States is a capitalistic nation.

Only by becoming powerful himself could he completely escape certain deaning situations. Otherwise, he couldn’t even work properly as a detective, restricted as he currently was in so many ways.

Beyond the mayor, there was also the Lucifer Organization...

There were only a dozen or so days left until the Battle Royale invitation.

The tree desires tranquility, but the wind never ceases!

His family was out in the open, while those vermin lurked in the shadows.

A murderous intent flashed in Dean’s eyes.

His previous strategy had always been to avoid confrontation whenever possible.

But why do they have to push this far!

A battle royale, is it!

Then I’ll slaughter you all until you’re terrified!

Dean suppressed the murderous rage surging in his chest.

He opened his laptop, clicked a special icon, and after entering a long password, the screen pulsed like an ECG. Lines surged, then coalesced into a single branch, triggering a new password verification prompt.

This happened several tis in a row.

Dean’s computer froze, as if infected by a virus.

The situation resembled a computer crash caused by incorrect password entries.

Dean waited silently. After the screen had remained frozen for over ten seconds, he hit Enter again. Even without a password verification prompt, he proceeded to type in another long password.

The next mont.

The frozen computer interface dissolved, flowing like water to the bottom of the screen as a gray page unfurled from the top.

At the top of the page, there was only a simple na: The Gray Realm.

In the bottom-right corner was sothing resembling chat software, with ssages constantly flickering.

Dean clicked on the chat box.

There were only two avatars.

One avatar was a picture of a deep ocean.

This was Dean’s chat account, codenad Ocean.

As he logged in, the gray ocean avatar brightened, revealing a dark, blue-black hue.

The other avatar was a bunch of ssy colored lines, codenad Emotionless, and it was lit!

You’re up already?

Dean muttered to himself, clicked on the other avatar, and sent a series of greeting ssages.

The Gray Realm was software he had asked Little Mike to develop.

Emotionless was Little Mike.

Due to a congenital condition, his body couldn’t secrete many vital hormones. This resulted in an emotional deficit and a progressively deteriorating physical condition, hence his avatar: a tangled ss of colored threads.

Those lines represented various emotions.

Dean had always maintained contact with Little Mike.

The kid was a prodigy.

However, for safety, inspired by the Lucifer Organization, he eventually had Little Mike develop The Gray Realm for their secure communication.

If necessary in the future, Dean would also bring other people he trusted into it.

Little Mike was clearly at his computer, for he replied to Dean’s ssage imdiately: "Dean, it’s been a long ti since you last visited."

Dean quickly typed his reply: "It’s not convenient for to be in Los Angeles constantly right now, but I’ll resolve this soon. Also, I’m setting up a pharmaceutical company. All profits can be used to support your research on the human body!"

When communicating with Little Mike, Dean was always direct and didn’t offer lengthy explanations.

Because it was pointless.

Little Mike rely lacked emotions and couldn’t grasp them, but his incredible intelligence allowed him to effortlessly convey whatever he intended.

「」

He simply couldn’t experience emotions directly and remained unaffected by them, operating like an intelligent program guided purely by benefits. Regaining emotions was his greatest yearning.

"Alright. As soon as possible. I don’t think I can hold on much longer."

"What do you need help with this ti?"

Little Mike guessed that Dean, by contacting him now, surely had a reason.