North American Detective: I am Proficient in All Kinds of Gun Quick Draws Chapter 593 335: Reinstatement, Deputy Director Hank1

COUGH, COUGH.

A painful, hacking cough ca from the side.

About ten ters away, Carlo was hunched over. He tried several tis to get up from the ground, but it was as if he had lost control of his body from drunkenness; he would get up only to fall again, looking quite wretched.

He didn't even know what had happened. His barely lucid consciousness only rembered that he must have been hit by a sedan. A terrifying force had pulled half of his body, sending him flying and crashing heavily onto the ground. He rolled several tis before coming to a stop.

Dean quickly ran over and pressed down on Carlo to keep him from moving. Holding out a finger, he asked, "How many is this?"

Carlo shook his head. Through his blurry vision, he saw three figures of Dean, his boss, swaying, their mouths opening and closing. Yet, all he could hear was a sharp ringing in his ears.

He wanted to say sothing.

As soon as he opened his mouth, a wave of nausea rushed over him.

He hurriedly turned, facing the ground and opening his mouth.

RETCH!

After the sour stench passed, Carlo felt a little better, but he was still suffering from the dizzying aftereffects of the explosion and couldn't stand up.

Seeing this, Dean had no choice but to carefully carry Carlo to a safer place. He called for an ambulance, explained the situation, and then crouched down to check Carlo's condition.

Carlo had been lucky. At the critical mont, Dean had flung him out of the way, sparing him the direct impact of the explosion. However, upon examination, Dean noticed an indentation on the left side of Carlo's ribcage. He reckoned at least three ribs were broken. This was likely why Carlo's mind wasn't very clear right now, sparing him the pain. But continuing to investigate the case with Dean was going to be difficult.

He glanced awkwardly at the spot where Carlo had landed. He might have used a bit too much force. Right now, Carlo looked as if he'd been hit by a car. His muscles and bones might have other injuries too. It was only slightly better than being directly hit by the explosion.

It was a good thing the area nearby was open. Otherwise, with the force Dean had used to pull and fling him, Carlo would have hit a wall. He might have escaped the explosion's impact only to end up as a picture on a morial wall. If that had really happened, Carlo's death would have been infuriatingly senseless.

The aftermath of the explosion—flas and black smoke shooting into the sky—was conspicuous even in daylight. From a distance ca the cacophony of alard residents and the wail of police sirens from the streets.

Dean crouched beside Carlo, looking down at his own hands. They felt sowhat alien to him.

I underestimated the combined power of my body before, Dean murmured to himself. If all three of my physical attributes reach twenty points, and I sprint at full power, anyone I collide with would probably fare no better than if they'd been in a car accident.

The last ti he had used his full strength was at the island base, facing those inhuman test subjects. The whole process had been a complete domination; he hadn't felt much pressure. So, Dean didn't yet have a very clear sense of his own body's current capabilities. He just felt his energy was incredibly abundant every day, and when interacting with people, he habitually suppressed most of his strength. This sudden, forceful pull on Carlo made him realize his own terrifying power.

With , 1 1 never equals 2. If all three attributes reach twenty points and amplify each other, it might genuinely be possible to withstand small-caliber bullets.

Dean's thoughts wandered for a mont before he refocused, waiting for the patrol officers who must have heard the commotion to arrive.

Experience Points are depreciating now, and leveling up is happening at a snail's pace. To reach the limit, I'll have to find opportunities to get involved in major cases. Climbing the ranks is also an option. If all the police in Los Angeles were essentially working for , the gains would accumulate. Reaching the maximum level wouldn't be just a dream. All these things will require gradual experintation.

「About five minutes after the explosion occurred.」

A number of police cars, sirens wailing, arrived at the scene. A group of patrol officers, ard and tense, surrounded the area near the lawyer's house. They simultaneously dispersed onlookers and knocked on doors of nearby residences, searching for anyone who might have been injured by the blast wave.

Dean and Carlo were conspicuous. Several burly police officers approached, guns drawn. "LAPD! Hands up, get down!" one of them commanded.

Dean obediently raised his hands, holding up the police badge from Carlo's chest, and shouted, "Homicide Division, Fourth Squad detectives! Officer injured, requires imdiate dical assistance!"

Hearing Dean, the officers didn't lower their guard. Not until a middle-aged patrolman approached, checked the badge, and recognized Dean—a well-known figure at the precinct—did the alert finally end.

The nearest hospital was very close.

Dean watched Carlo being loaded into the ambulance, then found himself detained at the scene. He couldn't leave just yet.

An explosion in a wealthy district was a major problem. Dean, a suspended chief inspector, being present at the scene—compounded by an on-duty detective being injured—made it an even bigger headache. Therefore, he was kept under guard at the scene, waiting for soone with authority to arrive and handle the situation.

Half an hour later, a numb-faced Old Hunter arrived, trailing dejectedly behind two middle-aged n.

Dean imdiately noticed the trio. One of them was a high-ranking police official. Dean had a vague recollection of him; he was likely the deputy chief of the local precinct. Monet had introduced them when Dean was handling the Lincoln Farm shootout, and he also seed to be Patrolman Hawk's superior.

The other man, dressed in a suit, was tall and imposing, with deep-set eyes and an aquiline nose. His initial appearance imdiately gave the impression that he was not an easy person to deal with, nor one for pleasantries.

Judging by Old Hunter's deferential posture, this man seed to be a leader from the Detective Bureau. However, Dean had already morized the faces of all prominent figures in the entire Bureau, and this man's face didn't ring any bells.