As a legendary Second-Generation Military, He Donglou might have been a playboy, but thanks to the atmosphere of his social circle, he was well versed in basic risk-avoidance common sense.
The moment Lao Si's warning reached his ears, he hugged his head and threw himself forward. He used too much force, and the seat belt dug painfully into him, but reality proved the correctness of his reaction the very next second.
The flying car, already swaying, was struck hard by an outside force. The onboard Smart Brain's voice alert was completely belated. At some point, glass shattered from one side, and fragments whistled through the cramped cabin. Some struck the back of his hand and his exposed nape, bringing a scorching sensation.
He was hurt. He did not feel pain yet and had no idea how serious the injuries were, but at least his brain could still think.
Think my ass!
"Fuck!" That was the only meaningful sound He Donglou managed to make.
Then, under the effect of adrenaline triggered by overwhelming terror and the blood his heart was pumping in overdrive, his shrimp-curled posture failed to produce any positive effect. Instead, his limbs stiffened and went numb, and his perception of the outside world became utterly confused.
He felt as though the flying car was rolling out of control. The banging noises by his ears and the air currents slicing across his skin sounded like whistling bullets, while the repeated impacts against his body naturally became signs of being shot.
The images in his mind mixed with his real perceptions, drowning out He Donglou's rational control. He knew it was wrong and meaningless, yet during the next violent jolt, he still screamed himself hoarse:
"Help!"
A heavier impact and a crashing sound of shattering drowned out his cry for