The cold wind howled, and snowflakes danced wildly in the sky, blanketing the earth in white. In this icy world where standing still for more than a minute could freeze someone to death, Luo Zheng stamped his feet and constantly twisted his body. However, his hands were as steady as iron, unmoving. He observed through the sniper scope, watching the approaching figures grow closer: tall, high-nosed, blue-eyed men, not of the Yellow Race, which at least ruled out the possibility of them being friendlies.
Seeing this, Luo Zheng calmly called out to Shan Hu, not far away, "They're not our own, quick, have the other brothers flank and encircle them, keep a distance of five hundred meters and try to form a sniper triangle. Let's surround this group before we act."
