"Young Master, there's a red wind coming up ahead!" The Man in Black said, having already inhaled a few breaths of it, but showed no reaction, his expression eased, "Young Master, it seems like it's not any poison..."
No sooner had the words left his mouth than a cloud of red powder blew in from the left to the right. Mo Nanjue squinted his eyes; the powder was inhaled into his nostrils following the strong wind, and he felt his whole body shudder, as if countless hands had seized every nerve in his body. Then, a sensation like molten lava exploded in his forehead!
"Young Master," the Man in Black turned his head, "Should we start shooting now?"
Mo Nanjue clenched his teeth so hard that he couldn't make a sound, the wind was too strong, and nearly all the powder had been drawn into his lungs. His hand holding the gun began to tremble violently, and his vision started to blur. The handsome man's eyes flickered momentarily before he let out a heavy, suppressed groan, "Mmm—"
