One minute…
Two minutes…
Three minutes had passed, with no sign of movement, he really couldn't wait any longer. If he waited another minute, he felt like he could collapse at any moment. He propped his forehead and, with a face full of frost, stood up tautly, opened the car door, and without a word, he leaped out and started running with long strides amid the surging crowd on the bustling street.
"Fourth Master, don't…"
Iron Hand closely pursued him from behind.
Zhui Ming had just reported… The intelligence squadron had intercepted communications, Satan's mission target was—assassination.
Iron Hand knew, Emperor Quan knew even better.
Perhaps just behind a window next to the street, there was a sniper rifle aiming at his head.
Iron Hand had followed Emperor Quan for many years, always seeing his cool and gloomy side, and had almost never seen him lose his composure like this.
He thought he was crazy.
