"Don't move."
With a warning, the Gun's point was pointed at his temple.
The sniper's black eyes subtly shifted to the corner, using his peripheral vision to look at the female soldier who stood by his side, unawares of when she arrived. Her refined face was painted with green and brown oils. The most eye-catching were those sharp, inky, and cold eyes. Its frightening sharpness shot straight to the heart, this random threat made the sniper rigid, daring not to move.
"You're dead."
Flossie Wright looked at him indifferently, feinted a pull of the trigger, then retracted her Type 95 rifle.
The sniper was extremely dejected. If the few people who had just rushed up to hunt him, he might have felt better. However, what was deadly was that he was subdued by a female soldier he had completely underestimated.
"Where did you come from?"
