Witnessing his own comrade being shot dead, his body shattered by buckshot beyond recognition, the blood-soaked ground turned the grass red. This scene stunned Zhao Haoqiang and his crew, several of whom wet themselves on the spot. These men were mere straw targets, lured by the prospect of money and utterly unprepared for such terror.
Especially Skinny, who was so frightened that his legs wouldn't obey him; he stood frozen, his body shaking uncontrollably, his eyes dead with fear. He had suffered a mental breakdown, and the others were not faring much better, either cowering on the ground or standing petrified, too scared to move.
The middle-aged man felt a sense of collapse. Damn it, he had spent a hundred thousand to hire a bunch of idiots who were too scared to make a move. But he couldn't afford to send his men into the fray; the police were armed, and the first attack would be brutal. He estimated losing a third of his dozen men in the initial assault.
