Han Wu abruptly stepped back, putting distance between himself and Ling Feifei.
Ling Feifei laughed coquettishly. "Little Han Wu, why are you running? It's not like your auntie is going to eat you."
Han Wu frowned slightly. Hard to say.
Ling Feifei knew better than to overdo it and restrained herself a little.
Men needed to be simmered over a low flame. Sooner or later, they would become her dish.
The two emerged from underground. Ling Feifei's nose twitched, and a trace of chill entered her voice.
"Little Han Wu, it seems some contestant spotted us. They set a trap at the entrance and are preparing to ambush us."
Han Wu looked toward the entrance, but nothing seemed out of the ordinary.
Still, since Ling Feifei had said so, Han Wu naturally had to take it seriously.
He had Ling Feifei get down from the ammunition box, then questioned her with his eyes about the contestant's position.
Ling Feifei pointed behind a wall.
The thick wall, coupled with the deliberate concealment of their aura, was enough to keep Han Wu from noticing them.
But it could not escape Ling Feifei's sense of smell.
Aiming in the direction Ling Feifei indicated, Han Wu pulled the trigger.
Azure flames erupted from the Gatling as bullets shot forth one after another.
Under the barrage of bullets, the wall was as fragile as a sheet of paper.
The contestant hiding behind it was hit. Unable to keep hiding, they hurriedly fled into the distance.
But no matter how fast they were, could they outrun bullets?
With one burst from Han Wu, even steel plates would be riddled like honeycomb briquettes.
That contestant was blasted into a bloody pulp and died on the spot.
Han Wu also successfully gained half of that contestant's points—only 2,500.