Wen Zao's brows and eyes narrowed, his forehead—the bullet he had shot so fiercely just now was because he knew Wen Qiyang was wearing a bulletproof vest, but if he aimed at the forehead, it would be a fatal shot!
Wen Zao's hesitation made Wen Qiyang's lips curl into a disdainful arc: "What? No confidence in your own gun technique? Or no confidence in your old man's skills?"
"I must tell you, this is your last chance—"
With a "bang—" sound, before Wen Qiyang's words had even fallen, a bullet whizzed like an arrow, but just as it was about to hit Wen Qiyang's forehead, almost only ten centimeters away, Wen Qiyang suddenly raised his hand, blocking it in front of his forehead.
Immediately following, with a 'snap—' sound, a crisp collision, the menacing bullet instantly struck the bronze ring on Wen Qiyang's index finger and fell in response.
