Yue Zhong’s body flashed about like a specter shuttling about in the dark. In his hands was the .03 Rifle, exhibiting his firing skills that he had honed tirelessly; every shot accurately found its target and blew apart a militant’s head.
After each shot, Yue Zhong would immediately change his position. A huge hail of bullets would fire randomly at his previous position, yet they wouldn’t hit anything. The militants could not even see where Yue Zhong was and could only helplessly fire in the general direction. They even tried to use suppressing fire to force him out, but it was to no avail.
As he hunted down the militants one by one, Yue Zhong kept on changing his position. Watching their comrades die one after another from the bullets appearing out of nowhere, the militants lost their morale quickly. They scrambled into their 2 buses, afraid to even stick their heads out, waiting for aid to come.