This imposing figure, coupled with the all-black attire, sends a shiver down one's spine.
A chill suddenly strikes from behind.
Mo Shangjun walked slowly closer.
As they gradually made out Mo Shangjun's features, her delicate and pretty face, no larger than the palm of a hand, was hidden beneath the training cap and rain hat, adding a mysterious aura.
Some noticed her hands, her left playing with a commonly used whistle, her right holding a megaphone.
Yet, those slender fingers were now encased in a pair of leather gloves.
Raindrops struck her leather gloves, her raincoat, splattering on her rain boots, yet remarkably, not a single inch of her was wet.
Approaching, stopping two meters away from the first row, Mo Shangjun came to a halt.
Her right hand slowly raised, Mo Shangjun brought the megaphone to her lips, the large device covering most of her face, and her cool voice spread through it.
"Congratulations, you're all here, didn't give me any more leverage."
"..."
