"Hm?"
Hearing Tir's words, Fu Qian looked up at him.
"My strength may be average, but I do have a decent eye."
The other man merely smiled faintly.
"One thing I can say for certain: if you really wanted to kill Felix, you wouldn't need this gun."
"You're far stronger than you let on!"
As he spoke, Tir sighed.
"Young people are always fascinated by stories of the lucky few, lamenting their own bad luck. They don't realize that every coincidence has a reason."
"I imagine it was precisely your strength that made you the only one to survive."
"And if even the Siren Group couldn't keep you on to continue working with them, this expedition must be extremely dangerous!"
What could he say?
Looking at the Old Man's confident expression, Fu Qian sighed inwardly.
In theory, that was indeed the case. The only difference was the order of cause and effect.
Tir's words also confirmed something: the first batch of cannon fodder had all been wiped out except for him, and the news wasn't exactly a secret.
That wasn't surprising. They'd died in their own homes, and someone as influential as Tir could easily find out.
"You flatter me. But since you know I'm no longer working with the Siren Group, coming to chat with me now doesn't seem like the wisest move."
As he spoke, Fu Qian gestured around them.
His meaning was clear: Tir knew he was the sole survivor and had been the one to end the partnership. He couldn't possibly have failed to realize that someone would be keeping an eye on him.
Approaching him now was likely to invite trouble.
"Haha!"
Tir had clearly caught Fu Qian's meaning, but he laughed heartily.
"Out here in the wasteland, trouble is the most ordinary thing in