Chen Yang saw the opponent aim a weapon at him; he wasn't the slightest bit panicked—instead, a hint of disdain flickered in his eyes.
He could dodge the weapon, but he didn't plan to.
With a speed imperceptible to the naked eye, his right hand produced a silver needle and, during the movement, targeted the muzzle of the raised weapon.
Whoosh.
The slender silver needle gleamed with a metallic luster in the sunlight but, in the tense moments of the battle, no one noticed it.
"Die!"
The person holding the weapon pulled the trigger, and the strong recoil shook the barrel, releasing a thunderous blast.
Seeing this, the enemy personnel all relaxed—in their view, the weapon's strike range was wide, and Chen Yang absolutely couldn't avoid it; their faces revealed a ferocious sneer, as if seeing the image of Chen Yang being shot and losing limbs.
