Gan Ning didn't make any comments.
Because reality had answered the young public student's uncertainty with intense feedback.
After the gunshot.
Only a second passed—or maybe not even a second.
Sharp and brief howling echoed all around, accompanied by these howls, the indeterminate shakuhachi players encircling the mutated ogre were extinguished like candle flames blown out by a fierce gale. Just as thousands of birds' restless and piercing calls vanished, the clamor receded, leaving a chilling silence.
Yes, extinguished.
Zheng Qing clearly envisioned this notion in his mind—the shapeshifting musicians had been completely annihilated. This thought was filled with a subjective certainty, just like the thought he felt deep inside when he fired the shot.
"How did you manage to do that?"
