You're sure quick at making up a script.
Fu Qian looked at Collins, whose lips were curled in a knowing smile, as if he'd expected this all along.
It was obvious that after things had spiraled out of control, Collins had switched to his next script within seconds.
Just like at the banquet yesterday.
The pain and revulsion on his face were exactly like Grace's back then, stemming from the disruption of the script in his mind.
In theory, that shot really could have hurt him—if it had hit.
Unfortunately, the instant Collins fired, Fu Qian had merely performed a staged fall.
There was no way Collins could see through the feint of a demigod.
"Quick reflexes. But if you were smart, you'd stay down and gamble on whether I'd fire again. You might have had a sliver of a chance."
Collins's tone was both cold and mocking.
"Instead, you're putting on this pointless display."
"Of course, that's only a maybe. In reality, the outcome wouldn't have changed."
"Your true identity, your purpose, and the person pulling your strings are all already under my control. I was just playing along and humoring you."
The gun in his hand was aimed at Fu Qian's head.
"Let's see you dodge this one."
"Really?"
Fu Qian blinked and wiped a hand across his face.
In the next instant, his features became Knight's.
"Actually, I just wanted to play a joke on everyone."
That pained expression appeared on Collins's face again.
A few seconds later, Collins slowly lowered the gun, his face full of emotion.
"All right, I've indulged you long enough. Let's call it here.
"I don't know if this will help you forget your pain for a while, though this game isn't very fun.
"I don't want anything like this happening