"It's so beautiful," Yi Mu exclaimed.
Zong Ao looked at his upturned face, which was incredibly beautiful even from this angle, and nodded in agreement: "Yes."
Yi Mu turned around, about to speak, when he suddenly noticed that Zong Ao's expression was not quite right.
He cast a questioning look at him.
Zong Ao stared intently at the red crosshair shooting through the window, his expression replaced by fear.
His hand pushed against Yi Mu's body, but it was too late.
On a high point on the hill in front of the villa, a man dressed entirely in black, blending into the night, pressed the trigger of a sniper rifle.
A bullet shot through the air and shattered the stained glass window at high speed.
The bullet that was originally aimed at Zong Ao's head missed, but another bullet came quickly in quick succession.
Zong Ao's reflexes were astonishing, but he still couldn't outrun a bullet.
Yi Mu's shoulder was punched through, and he barely reacted until the burning pain hit him, at which point he realized what had happened.
Zong Ao quickly pulled Yi Mu to a blind spot in the room, his mind racing.
That angle must be from the mountain in front.
The sniper must still be looking for a position. Everyone who arrived tonight has been strictly screened. I wonder if the other side has an inside man.
"Hiss—" Yi Mu was trembling all over from the pain.
Zong Ao covered his wound with his hand, trying his best to calm himself down, his eyes quickly scanning the room.
Even in a dimly lit room with excellent visibility, there is no guarantee that the room is absolutely safe and free of traps.
"What exactly happened?" Yi Mu asked weakly.
The pain from the wound made his very soul tremble, but he didn't let himself cry out.
The situation is clearly not right; it's likely that the people who started the shooting were after Zong Ao.
"I'm sorry, Yi Mu." Zong Ao hugged Yi Mu in his arms, feeling so guilty that he wanted to slap himself.
He wouldn't be in danger if he hadn't brought Imur here.
Yi Mu was in so much pain that he couldn't speak. His fingers gripped Zong Ao's clothes, and his vision blurred due to excessive blood loss.
Zong Ao did not allow himself to become overwhelmed by feelings of guilt.
He laid Yimu down on the carpeted bedside and took out the dagger he had kept for self-defense from the bedside table.
Just as he pulled the dagger from its sheath, a cold piece of metal pressed against the back of his head.
“@#$%%@#”, a man’s voice, rough and gruff, speaking in a language no one could understand.
Zong Ao's hair stood on end, as long-forgotten memories flooded back.
The primitive tribe that sells arms, the chieftain who is as dark and thin as a monkey, and the strong tribesmen with bright tattoos on their faces.
It took the special forces he led six months of continuous encirclement and suppression to finally eliminate the enemy.
I never expected that there were still remnants of their tribes.
"Go!" the other person said urgently.
Zong Ao threw away the dagger, raised his arm, and slowly stood up.
The other party kicked Yi Mu, who was lying unconscious on the ground, pressed the gun against Zong Ao's waist, and gave a signal.
A murderous glint flashed across Zong Ao's face, but his voice remained calm and composed: "He is innocent. Just take me away."
The other person was panting heavily when he kicked him hard in the leg and said something that roughly meant, "Shut the fuck up."
Zong Ao took a few deep breaths, turned around, and stared into the man's eyes for a while.
The other person pressed a gun against his head, their eyes gleaming, as if to say, "What can you do to me?"
Zong Ao bent down and picked up Yi Mu.
The man held a gun to his head and forced him to go upstairs.
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