"Yes! Boss!"
Chen Shaoye’s voice was firm and he loaded the rifle extremely fast.
"Wait—" He Peiyuan shouted and rushed forward trying to take Chen Shaoye’s gun off his hands.
It was such a pity; he was too late.
‘Bang! Bang! Bang!’
There was no expression on Chen Shaoye’s fat face as he was shooting. His finger was mechanically pulling the trigger and blood would gush out after every shot. After the successive gunshots, one body after the other kept falling on the ground. Soon, the ground was filled with bodies; it was like a warzone.
It was bloody and cruel.
The rifle had fired a dozen bullets. Chen Shaoye’s accuracy was peerless; each bullet would land on a head, or kill two people directly. He didn’t even need changing the magazine.
In Chu Han’s previous life, during the first ten years of the apocalypse, Chen Shaoye could be described as a person who could kill more people, even though he had fewer bullets.
