The woman's body kept twitching under Killian's barrage of bullets, like a corpse undergoing a knee-jerk reflex.
Only after he had emptied an entire magazine did he sense that something was off. He looked around and saw more than ten special agents nervously closing in, though none dared approach. They did not even dare meet his eyes, keeping their heads bowed as if they had stumbled into some terrifying scene where a monster might devour them.
"Relax. They're all tranquilizer rounds," Killian said. "A mistress who can use steel skin isn't an ordinary mistress. You have to hit her hard. Make sure she can't fight back at all."
The special agents exchanged glances and edged closer with great care. They used an instrument to check her from several yards away. Only after confirming that she still had an almost imperceptible pulse and breath did they let out a sigh of relief.
But no matter what, the sight of a handsome young man with a pistol, repeatedly shooting at the "corpse" of a beautiful young woman, would certainly become a scene they remembered for the rest of their lives.
So, throughout all the cleanup that followed, they still didn't dare make the slightest eye contact with Killian.
By comparison, Yang Mingzhao was far more adept at handling people. He naturally took charge of the scene, directing the personnel with effortless competence as they cleaned up, repaired the roads and buildings, soothed the shaken residents, and dealt with the swarms of reporters and onlookers. He even gathered the reporters together and held a very brief press conference that was packed with useful information.
"Yes, we received some intelligence. Extremely dangerous terrorists were hiding here, and they may have been carrying weapons of mass destruction. For the safety of our citizens, Mr. President