"It's a rocket launcher, no doubt."
Wei Tianyang thought, and the next second, the missile shattered the other half of the minibus's windshield and flew toward his forehead.
He bent down.
A smell like car exhaust rushed into his nostrils, his right ear felt hot, and his whole body involuntarily trembled, and before he could react, he had instinctively dropped to the ground.
Before his hands touched the ground, the minibus's rear windshield shattered with a crash.
The missile had passed through.
He was damn lucky! Wei Tianyang looked back at the vehicle, his scalp tingling, his hair feeling like tens of thousands of needles were inserted into it, chilly.
"Ishmael!" Starbucks yelled to the back.
"Keep driving!" Wei Tianyang shouted.
He grabbed the railing and stood up; in the distance, conservative soldiers with rocket launchers were reloading.
They were crazy, firing in the streets.
