The battle was over.
The Black Dragon Society's mecha sat collapsed on the ground, its back against a dilapidated building. The pilot emerged with his hands raised and was escorted to the open ground, where he joined the round-faced and horse-faced cadres and the other survivors.
The people looked at one another, wide-eyed and speechless.
Especially the two cadres. They had followed Duanmu Xiong here today full of confidence, believing they would surely deal Spring God Biological Group a heavy blow.
Who could have expected that the other side would deploy three mechas and seize the initiative the moment they made their move?
They had caught them completely off guard.
Now they had no idea how their president was doing. But even if Duanmu Xiong had managed to escape, he probably would not come back to save them.
At that thought, both the round-faced and horse-faced cadres felt somewhat discouraged.
Just then.
They heard footsteps.
When they raised their heads, they saw a figure walking toward them beneath the sunlight.
The round-faced cadre narrowed his eyes with effort and barely made out a black-haired man wearing a red Nuoxi Opera Mask. He appeared to be carrying something round in one hand.
At that moment, the black-haired man flicked his hand, and the round object flew over. Something landed on the round-faced cadre's fat face.
He instinctively touched it, then brought his fingers before his eyes. They were bright red.
Blood!
It was blood!
Looking again at the object that had rolled to a stop in front of him, the round-faced cadre cried out and collapsed onto the ground.
It was Duanmu Xiong's head!
Duanmu Xiong's expression was one of terror, as if he had seen something horrifying. The fear he had felt before death had been forever frozen onto his