Everyone donned masks and night vision goggles, gripping their guns tightly as their hearts tensed to the extreme.
Third Young Master Jun's eyes under the mask radiated bloodthirsty coldness and perilous strange light, silently raised his sniper rifle, disengaged the safety, and with a chilling click, the tension escalated.
To come this far meant casting aside morals and compassion, as well as any consideration of whether it was right to kill this old man. On the blood-drenched path of Asura, weathered and fallen to hell, there was no turning back. What occupied his mind now was only the desire to protect the sliver of brightness that had appeared in his life, the only warmth he yearned for and couldn't bear to part with—Ye Lu.
Even if it meant staining his hands with innocent blood, even if it meant becoming a demonic ghost of hell, he would not hesitate!
In Third Young Master Jun's eyes, there was only blood red.
