"Heh."
A scornful laugh.
The male soldier was startled. That laugh, sharp as if laden with spikes, pierced straight into the depths of his heart, provoking an unbearable sting.
The surroundings seemed to fall into complete silence, no one speaking, no one moving, only the wind, the cold biting wind of the night, whistling past the ears.
The hand grasping the rifle trembled slightly. He suppressed the panic in his heart and stiffly turned to look to his side.
As expected—
Mo Shangjun, who had disappeared from his scope, suddenly appeared beside him.
Only half a step away, she did not attack him, but was holding an unsheathed military saber. The blade, plated with chrome, did not reflect the light, yet it emitted a chill in the flickering firelight.
The saber was playfully twirled in her hand, a seemingly casual motion, but the tip was always aimed at him as if any misbehavior from him would result in the saber's tip pressing against his throat the next moment.
