At that moment, the gun in his hand seemed to turn transparent.
Without looking, Zhang Fan knew the structure of the gun completely.
Just as Hua Ling and the others sneered and mocked, Zhang Fan's hand moved!
His wrist flicked upwards, and he threw the gun into the air, where, in Zhang Fan's eyes, it seemed the world itself had frozen.
His expression was completely comfortable, with not a hint of tension.
The next moment, his right hand moved, swift as a shadow, touching the gun, which instantly disassembled into countless parts in that instant.
Everyone stared at the gun parts scattering in the sky as if they had seen a ghost.
From the moment Zhang Fan raised his hand, the gun had been disassembled, a scene so dreamlike that everyone's mouths hung open.
The next moment, Zhang Fan raised his left hand; both hands danced through the air like phantoms.
The gun barrel, the spring, the magazine—all components were systematically reassembled by him.
"Click click click!"
