North American Detective: I am Proficient in All Kinds of Gun Quick Draws-Chapter 642 - 356 Savior Part 1

CLAP. CLAP. CLAP.

Qian Feng returned to the temporary live broadcast room, clapped his hands, and drew the attention of the hostages, already exhausted mentally and physically, to himself. "Ladies and gentlemen, I believe today is a day you'll find hard to forget in your entire life. Did everyone have fun today?"

"Fun..."

The weak, listless replies echoed in the broadcast room.

They were conflicted now. They were on a live broadcast; appearing too cooperative meant losing face in front of the whole world, but not cooperating could mean angering this completely psychotic madman, who might kill a few people for entertainment.

No one doubted any longer that Qian Feng was a madman.

Just before, he had made Mr. Saul of Los Angeles mate with a sow live on broadcast. The subsequent demands included, but were not limited to, making those globally swaggering soldiers strip in public, recount some of their experiences stealing oil, and blow the whistle on corruption within the military—involving male and female soldiers, even male-to-male and female-to-female relationships, and superiors abusing subordinates... The prevalence of sexual abuse was rampant.

Besides that, there were Federation representatives confessing each other's shortcomings. The situation escalated, and the content became more and more explosive and hideous.

All in all, these hostages were now worried that Qian Feng, the madman, would continue his games. The politicians in the United States might not accommodate him anymore.

Oh God! Save us, please!

These hostages, whether they had faith or not, were praying to God most sincerely at this moment. They didn't know who else besides God could save them, save the United States, from the threat of the "Peace Messenger."

In front of television screens, countless families, as long as they still had a shred of kindness in their hearts, were also making the same prayers. This also showed that most people didn't really think the constantly compromising government truly had the power to prevent the outbreak of this disaster.

Under the watchful eyes of countless people, it seemed as though God had given a response.

Qian Feng, hearing the weak noises in the broadcast room, didn't care. He took the confiscated cell phones from the drawer and threw them to the ground, speaking kindly, "Well, I guess you all are tired from playing, and so am I. Considering your cooperation and that of the United States, I'm ready to end this boring game. Go ahead and reassure your families."

"You're ready to let us go?" a middle-aged woman, already close to breaking down, asked in disbelief.

Qian Feng nodded. "Yes. Now that my demands have been met, why wouldn't I?"

"Oh God, is this true?"

"Thank God, thank God! SOB, SOB!"

...

Qian Feng's words were like a shot of adrenaline straight into the carotid arteries of these hostages. They cheered uncontrollably, embraced each other in joy; some cried tears of relief, others frantically searched for cell phones on the ground to call their families and reassure them.

In front of their TVs, numerous viewers also subconsciously breathed a sigh of relief, smiles reappearing on their faces. Despite losing face in front of the whole world, they no longer had to face a human tragedy.

Looking at the overjoyed hostages, Qian Feng's face showed mockery as he turned to leave.

When he reappeared in the broadcast room, he was carrying a box. It was the box that had vanished earlier, the one containing the "Peace Messenger."

The hostages, either speaking to their families with the joy of having survived a disaster, or embracing and kissing a workplace lover not yet made public in front of the camera, were venting the fear and pressure they had been suppressing.

It wasn't until the peripheral vision of one hostage caught the flickering light inside the box Qian Feng was opening that he felt something was amiss.

He walked tremblingly towards Qian Feng and squatted down, his mind going blank. "Is this the 'Peace Messenger'?"

Qian Feng, with a cigarette dangling from his mouth, glanced at the hostage, took the cigarette out, stuffed it into the other's mouth, and then nodded. "Hmm."

"But isn't it already over?" The hostage inhaled the cigarette subconsciously, only then realizing what was happening. He spoke agitatedly, "You even let us call to reassure our families!!!"

His roar drowned out all other noise in the broadcast room, drawing back the attention of the hostages and the viewers in front of the TV.

Faced with the questioning, Qian Feng's face showed mockery. "Because despair that comes after hope is the most delicious!"

"FUCK YOU!!!"

The male hostage, recalling his daughter's concerned, crying voice from the phone call, completely lost control. His face transformed into a snarling mask as he lunged at the demon before him.

The next moment.

BANG.

With the acrid smell of burning smokeless gunpowder, fragments of skull, along with the man's despairing blood, spattered into the air, spraying the faces of nearby hostages and shattering the last vestiges of hope for all hostages and viewers in front of their TVs.

The resisting body, its eyes wide in a death that would find no peace, fell heavily and lifelessly to the ground, crushing the hearts of the surrounding hostages.

A greater despair awaited them after a fleeting hope!

...

"Sorry, this is no joke." Qian Feng grinned sinisterly, blowing on the warm barrel of his gun.

"With the atmosphere like this, I can't disappoint the countless viewers around the globe who would be let down if I didn't detonate this 'Peace Messenger.'

"The minority must yield to the majority.

"I hope you all will leave some interesting nicknames for me on my epitaph!

"'The Federation Terminator' sounds pretty good.

"Ha ha ha ha..."

At this moment, Qian Feng, in everyone's minds, was someone even a demon would kowtow to.

In the desperate gazes of all, Qian Feng slowly extended his hand towards the box, towards the shiny red button amidst the flickering lights.

"AH, AH, AH~"

"I don't want to die! I'll fight you!"

In the face of life and death, there is great terror. Some wailed in despair; others rose up in resistance.

But everyone knew. It was over. The moment the mushroom cloud rose, everything would be over.

「City Hall」

Amon's large palm clenched his crisp, expensive tailored trousers tightly, and he was swearing profusely inside his head!

Dammit! What the hell is Dean doing! Why hasn't he come to put an end to all this!

The current situation was even more terrifying than dancing on a tightrope.

Amon didn't dare to imagine what kind of public outcry he would face if a mushroom cloud really rose, only to be "suicided" in prison or his own apartment to vent some of the public's anger.

That wasn't the outcome he wanted!

In the camera's view, Qian Feng's finger was about to touch the button the very next second.

It was like a bad Hollywood movie.

At the critical moment, a figure suddenly burst in from outside, leaped into the air, gunfire blooming like fireworks, like a shooting star. It accurately struck Qian Feng's reaching finger while simultaneously pinning his entire body to the ground.

Dean's expression was stern, the still-hot muzzle of his gun pressed firmly against the screaming Qian Feng's head.

In front of the camera, his magnetic voice, full of authority, declared, "NSA agent Dean. I now announce that you are under arrest for threatening the homeland security of the United States!"

The angle Dean chose was textbook Hollywood framing, not only showing a close-up of his face to the camera but also delivering his lines with a powerful cadence that could make even an Oscar-winning actor feel the authority and pressure.

And all of this, when presented to the audience, brought an immense sense of safety and goodwill.

At this moment, both the hostages and the viewers in front of their televisions stared, dumbfounded, at the unfolding events.

First came hope, then despair, and then new hope...

At this moment, who knew how many heart patients couldn't handle such a roller-coaster plot, their hearts giving out as they collapsed in front of their TVs.

A miracle had really happened!

...

Just when everyone thought that everything had finally come to an end, Qian Feng, pinned down and howling in pain, suddenly ripped open his trench coat. His head, still held at gunpoint, strained upwards as he snarled ferociously, "Come on, shoot me! The detonator on my body is connected to the pulse sensor on my wrist! I can still detonate the 'Peace Messenger'!"

A look of shock finally appeared on Dean's stern face.

The next moment, Qian Feng took advantage of Dean's lapse in concentration and violently threw him off. He aimed the intact gun in his left hand at the box and pulled the trigger!

BANG! BANG! BANG!

Gunshots rang out repeatedly.

"Oh God!"

Countless people closed their eyes, unable to bear watching the mushroom cloud rise.

Another batch of heart patients who had just taken their medication couldn't withstand this repeated stress; they clutched their chests and fell.

But... the screen didn't go dark.

The expected massive explosion never came.

All the viewers who had squeezed their eyes shut couldn't help but peek through their fingers at the television screen.

There, they saw a broad figure half-kneeling on the ground, weakly leaning against the wooden crate, shielding it completely. Only the blood dripping from his red-stained shirt, drop by drop, told the audience what had just happened.

"You..." Qian Feng looked at Dean, who still stood somewhat upright, with utter shock in his eyes!

Although this was all according to the script, this guy actually dared to take bullets with his own body? What is he trying to do? Die for his country? Bullshit! After all, if he died or lost the ability to resist, I would truly detonate the 'Peace Messenger' in the box!

Undaunted, Qian Feng moved his gun barrel up, aiming at Dean's head, intending to pull the trigger again!

CLICK.

All he heard was the hollow sound of the firing pin hitting an empty chamber.

No more bullets.

"FUCK!" Qian Feng cursed and reached to pull the detonator cord from his waist.

To hell with the script! I don't care what you want to do; you're all going to die!

...

In front of their televisions, the audience members who had just breathed a sigh of relief, moved by the sight of Dean's half-kneeling figure, saw Qian Feng's actions. Their hearts, which had just eased, were seized tight yet again!

The last remaining group of resilient heart patients among the audience finally collapsed.

It was too thrilling. Even Hollywood wouldn't dare to film a scene like this! It was simply unbearable.

As everyone watched in renewed despair, Qian Feng violently tore off the detonator cord!

Everything... remained safe and sound.

"Why?" Qian Feng, looking utterly defeated, stared at the cord in his hand and roared at Dean, "Why didn't it explode?! You bastard, what the..."

Before he could finish his words, Dean's gun barrel jerked upward.

A steel-core bullet shot through Qian Feng's wide-open mouth, thoroughly extinguishing the final blaze of madness in this man destined for global infamy.

Everyone first felt joy, then renewed shock!

Oh no! The pulse detonator!

But, like the wire detonator, after Qian Feng died, the device on his body showed no change.

"COUGH, COUGH..." Dean pretended to cough weakly, spat out two mouthfuls of blood, then opened his left hand and dropped a piece of the detonator connector he had torn off earlier. He spoke weakly to the hostages, "Don't worry. Pulse detonation is difficult and unstable. I had already destroyed the wire detonator; this is fake."

Having said that, he struggled to get up, revealing the seven or eight blood-stained bullet holes on his chest to the camera, and staggered over to Qian Feng's body. "The suspect was armed and resisted arrest. He has been neutralized."

As his words fell, Dean's stooped form finally gave way, and he collapsed heavily backwards.

...

「City Hall」

Amon watched Dean fall, a smile in his eyes.

This guy. He had clearly seen the portable bulletproof vest beneath Dean's blood-stained shirt. But he couldn't understand why this guy carried so many blood packs on him. Was it to fake his death in an emergency? No matter what, Amon knew that from this day forward, Dean Lee's name, alongside the fall of that madman Qian Feng, would become famous across the United States and the world. Dean Lee would be hailed as the savior of the United States!