Just as Zhao Dong stepped forward, Song Zixuan's expression changed completely.
"Zhao Dong, you're forcing my hand! You've crossed my bottom line!"
The moment she spoke, her finger was on the trigger, about to squeeze it. In that split second, just before she could fire, Zhao Dong's body flickered—yes, a mere flicker! An afterimage swept across everyone's vision as Zhao Dong vanished from his spot. The next second, he reappeared right in front of Song Zixuan. It was like a cut in a film, a flicker of light and shadow. Everything happened so fast—impossibly fast—that no one could react in time.
Everyone's eyes refocused, but this time they were all frozen in terror. Song Zixuan was suspended in midair, a large hand clamped around her neck. He had lifted her right off the ground!
The air seemed to freeze as Zhao Dong's voice rang out, chilling and hellish. "As a soldier, my bottom line is that no one points a gun at me. No one."
