CHAPTER 438: CHAPTER 269: DISMISSAL PART 1

A modest little shooting range stood on the outskirts of Los Angeles.

A sleepy old man parked his truck in front of Dean and, after taking a swig of strong liquor to wake himself up, smacked his lips and said, "Detective Dean, with so many weapons, you’ve nearly emptied my little nest. It looks like your squad has quite a few people."

Dean looked over the truck laden with firearms with satisfaction and casually said, "Old Taylor, what team?"

Old Taylor owned the shooting range. Of course, he was the sole Keeper of this range, which was largely unmanaged. It was only frequented by citizens who came to hunt regularly or those needing to modify guns, who would occasionally bring friends over for some fun.

Seeing Dean’s reaction, Old Taylor realized that he had misunderstood.

He stood there stunned, gesturing towards the back of the truck, "All these weapons and ammunition, Mr. Detective, you’re not planning to play with them all day by yourself, are you?"

The weapons and ammunition were worth tens of thousands of US Dollars. He didn’t believe anyone could physically handle that.

Upon hearing this, Dean just smiled and did not speak, reaching into his pocket for a thick wad of US dollars and tossing it at Old Taylor, "I just want to familiarize myself with all kinds of firearms. Oh, right, Old Taylor, you should have some pineapples here, please bring me a few as well."

Old Taylor looked at Dean, then at the stack of bills worth at least a few thousand US Dollars, and gulped, hesitating somewhat.

"Don’t overthink it. I’m just in a bad mood and want to blow off some steam, Old Taylor. You don’t think that with my position, I wouldn’t be able to get these things elsewhere, do you?"

"Alright..."

Considering Dean was already a police detective at such a young age, Old Taylor thought he had indeed overthought the situation.

He first helped Dean unload the boxes of weapons and ammunition from the truck, then got back in the vehicle, ready to go to his own armory to grab the pineapples that Dean had asked for.

Watching him leave, Dean couldn’t wait to pick up a small-caliber handgun with a relatively low power factor and pulled the trigger next to his own body. At the same moment he pulled the trigger, his consciousness spurred the Subspace in an attempt to collect the bullet that was fired at him.

The next moment, it felt as if a huge hammer had struck Dean’s head with a heavy blow. He grunted loudly and swayed as he sat down on the ground.

It took him quite a while to recover.

Dean then got up with a pained expression on his face.

His guess had worked, but... it also failed.What Dean hadn’t anticipated was that collecting objects into Subspace actually came with a price!The price was the exhaustion of his Spirit.His previous attempts had all been with stationary objects, and with his highly active Spirit, he hadn’t felt it much.

But when a bullet, with its significant kinetic energy, came barreling towards him, Dean immediately suffered for it.

The feeling of being smashed in the head with a hammer was truly unbearable.

Even with some relief in the present moment, Dean still felt that his Spirit was much more languid compared to before.

He put down the handgun, somewhat disheartened. It seems I can only try to collect bullets shot at me into Subspace during a crisis, he thought. Otherwise, I can’t handle it.

However, there was still a silver lining.

The experiment had just confirmed that, within the range of Dean’s Subspace, as long as his Spirit could endure it, he could collect any inanimate object shot at him.

In a crisis, it could be extremely effective for saving one’s own life or feigning death.

Moreover... Dean’s gaze suddenly darted to a nearby bush. The next moment, a bullet shot out from thin air near his right eye, hitting an unidentified insect flying through the bushes and killing it on the spot!

"Cool!"

Dean grinned.

Although collecting bullets was limited by his Spirit, making it impossible to stockpile them in Subspace on a large scale to use as a trump card, preparing one or two each day would still be enough for emergencies.

Actually, with Dean’s reflexes, suddenly drawing a gun from Subspace and firing would not be much slower than this unexpected bullet shot, but the surprise tactic of releasing a bullet unexpectedly was just so cool!

Imagine it. One day, he’s playing poker naked, and when an enemy suddenly attacks, he calmly raises a finger and with a BIU motion, the enemy’s head explodes in response... Just the thought made Dean feel exhilarated.Maybe... this is a man’s joy.

Having suddenly discovered the limitations of Subspace, Dean’s previous ideas were naturally unworkable.

But the money couldn’t be wasted.

He spent the entire day at the range.

During this time, Dean did some testing and found that compared to bullets, his Subspace faced less strain and better defense against the impact of pineapple shrapnel and shotgun blasts.

So, he also collected a couple of shotgun pellets that had just been fired, and some of the impact fragments produced by the pineapple explosion, ensuring the diversity of his techniques before returning to his apartment covered in the smell of gunpowder.

Dean was, overall, very satisfied with this experiment. However, the continuous use of Subspace to collect impacting objects had left his Spirit drained, necessitating sleep for recovery.

He planned to wait until he woke up before considering preparing some items to keep ready in Subspace in case of an emergency.

「Just as Dean went to bed early.」

Monet, the former captain who had not appeared before Dean for a long time, put down the phone with a worried look.

Today was a holiday.

He was with his wife and children, in their small yard, tinkering with a barbecue picnic.

Family, children, sunshine, a pleasant breeze...

All of these made Monet, a man whose career had always gone smoothly, feel joyful.

But the recent call had ruined his otherwise great mood.

Monet’s wife, keenly noticing the change in his mood, passed over a skewer of grilled vegetables without a word, and asked, "What’s wrong, Monet?"

Not wanting to spread the bad mood to his family, Monet had to rein in his emotions and shrugged, "Just some issues with complaints, you know. Ever since I took charge of the Internal Affairs department, a lot of old friends come to me looking for favors. After all, in terms of enforcement, many officers really lack proportion."

In a nation awash with guns, being a police officer is not exactly a good job.

Because these people are often under great mental strain, they can easily resort to trigger-happy shooting, resulting in accidental injuries and deaths, and subsequently, severe psychological problems.

And if they can’t maintain this kind of readiness, they’re likely to die in the line of duty.

Almost every police officer with significant achievements cannot escape the experience of receiving a large number of complaints.

And these officers are generally the backbone and elite of their respective police departments.

So Monet, as the head of the Internal Affairs department, often needed to expend a lot of effort coordinating these matters. It was indeed much more tiring than when he was a captain.

However, Monet’s wife saw through her husband’s insincerity.

But she did not pursue the subject, merely nodding her head with a tender smile, "Alright, if you need to take care of things, go ahead. I’ll look after the kids."

Monet planted a grateful kiss on his wife’s forehead, apologized to his young children, returned to the house to change clothes, and drove to a high-end private club filled with Asian faces.

Guided by a waiter, Monet quickly appeared in an office decorated in a minimalist style and respectfully said to the man in the main seat, "Mr. Saul!"

This man, Monet’s backer—Saul Aston, was also the current mayor of Los Angeles.

The air in the office still carried a scent that all men understood.

Clearly, something unspeakable had just been taking place before Monet entered.

Saul, looking pleased with himself, adjusted his collar, picked up a cigar from the desk, preparing it as he spoke in a low voice, "Monet, how’s it going with the matter?"

Monet, an old Caucasian man with a scholarly demeanor, lowered his head, "It has been dealt with. If necessary, I can take Dean down anytime, but he’s very capable, I..."

KNOCK. KNOCK. Saul tapped on the desk, "Then take him down!"

"Understood, Mr. Saul!"

Monet walked out of the office, somewhat dejectedly.

It wasn’t that he and Dean had a deep relationship, but rather Dean was his pawn, and Saul had previously shown an attitude of valuing Dean.

And now, he was moving against Dean without clear reasons.

This filled Monet with a vague sense of unease.

This unease included concern for his own future and feelings of guilt towards Dean.

This guy definitely had strong capabilities, but ever since his appointment, his style of operating had been very uncompromising, leading to a fair number of complaints.Many of the case reports also seemed quite perfunctory, but Monet had suppressed them, choosing not to investigate further.

Now, these complaints and case reports would become powerful evidence to suspend Dean.

The time Dean was previously put on administrative leave was just the beginning.

And this time, they were truly preparing to make a move.

Who had Dean managed to offend, after all?

Monet did not believe that Saul Aston, the new power in Los Angeles, would target a minor figure in his ranks without good reason.

It was too abnormal!

「After Monet left.」

In the office, a black-haired beauty emerged from the resting room, silently and gracefully, and sat in Saul’s lap, "You really are a man of your word, Mr. Saul."

Saul exhaled a puff of smoke, looking at the ceiling, "I’ve fulfilled my promise to you. Now it’s your turn to repay me!"

Dean was but a minor character, after all. But this minor character had managed to offend a family from Japan due to the ogre case, and many of the female members of this family were married to numerous Caucasian staff in the Los Angeles government.

Saul needed the Japanese people to counterbalance the Chinese businessmen’s power below him.

Those Japanese, having experienced the previous incident, also realized they needed to find a stronger backer in Los Angeles.

By coincidence, many of the Japanese people also had connections with the powers in Taiwan, which was where Saul’s mother’s family was from.

Driven by these mutual needs, both parties conveniently used the minor issue involving Dean to make contact.

So Dean was simply unlucky.

"The Yamaguchi Family will serve you wholeheartedly..."

The woman laughed softly, slid down from Saul’s embrace, and knelt down...