Rapid Rescue, Night Talk on the Mountain

Thud—the black warhorse suddenly crashed down, both front legs snapping at once, and the armored warrior was thrown headlong from its back.

With a roar of engines, a broad, heavy motorcycle burst out and sped straight toward the Ghost Cavalry of the Vanguard.

The Ghost Cavalry of the Vanguard, rolling across the ground, looked up just in time to see a pitch-black gun barrel aimed straight at him from less than three feet away.

Bang.

The blast thundered—it was a Desert Eagle.

The Ghost Cavalry of the Vanguard was sent flying backward, then crashed to the ground with a clang. The motorcycle shot past him, racing toward the Rolls-Royce on the verge of losing control.

On the motorcycle.

Shi Tiexin twisted around to glance behind him and inwardly lamented the missed chance.

The Ghost Cavalry of the Vanguard lay on the ground.

Purple blood flowed across the road.

But he was not dead yet.

This guy was an elite monster, immensely strong. A single bullet from an ordinary Desert Eagle could not kill him. If Shi Tiexin had not seized the initiative with a sneak attack, taking him down would probably have taken some effort.

It was a pity bullets could not be enchanted with Tribulation Force after leaving the barrel. A pity he had come in such a hurry that he had not brought his blade. A pity he could not stop and finish him off completely. A pity his essence and vitality were not yet full, leaving him incomplete. Otherwise, he could have eliminated one of the enemy's fierce generals today.

The thoughts flashed through his mind, then hardened into resolve.

Shi Tiexin stopped looking back. He twisted the throttle hard and shot up beside the Rolls-Royce. Wang Dafa, driving the car, and Shi Tiexin, riding the motorcycle,