Meanwhile, the other three also closed in. They all looked to be in their twenties or thirties.
"Second Brother, are you saying this guy was the one who took down Fifth Brother?"
"It was this brat. I saw a flash of cold light shoot from his direction toward Fifth Brother just now. It was definitely this brat."
"Then kill him first."
Bang~!
A gunshot rang out, but the one who fell was not Conan—it was Second Brother, whose head had been blown apart by a bullet.
Seeing Second Brother collapse, the others were briefly stunned before fury and madness took over. The police actually dared to attack them? Had they completely disregarded the hostages' safety?
But that worked out perfectly. They had been about to make their move anyway. They would detonate the bombs now and blow Tropical Land into the sky.
The explosives they had planted were not enough to destroy all of Tropical Land, but blowing up half of it should not have been a problem.
However, just as their leader reached for the detonator, a bloody hole appeared in his head as well.
The other two followed, each killed by a single bullet before they could even react.
The only one who survived was Fifth Brother, who was still unconscious. It was precisely because he had passed out that he had kept his life.
He should have counted himself lucky—lucky that he had fainted. Otherwise, he would likely have been shot dead too.
Conan stared blankly at the four men before him, all of them shot in the head. They had been dealt with so quickly.
All four had died within two seconds. Could there be a sharpshooter among the police? And probably more than one.
But Conan had guessed wrong. There had really been only one