Half an hour later, Mo Shangjun lay in the grass in a ghillie suit, her eyes dry as she stared at the scope.
The temperature was warming up in April, and as soon as it got dark, the mosquitoes came out to make trouble, buzzing around her ears. Yet, lying on the ground, Mo Shangjun couldn't move an inch, having to endure the mosquito bites.
A beetle crawled on the back of her hand, making her skin itch. A few mosquitoes seemed to have targeted her, coming back to suck a little blood intermittently. The itching at the bitten spots was almost unbearable, but she couldn't even touch them.
But it wasn't something she couldn't endure.
As time passed by the minute, facing the same mountainous environment, Mo Shangjun's eyelids began to droop. It was difficult to maintain the same energy as at the beginning. Drowsiness and fatigue quickly overwhelmed her, and she desperately wanted to yawn dramatically.
But Ya Tianxing didn't even give her the chance to yawn.
