On the gravel beach of Crimson Cape, before the Hell rift, Miao Mu faced Hell's terror with imposing swagger.
Behind him, Deadshot was working the bolt in his hands so hard it was nearly smoking. Aside from still looking like a Soviet Type 30 Mosin-Nagant Rifle, this meticulously modified Mosin-Nagant had been completely upgraded, from its barrel rifling to its firing components.
The bullets it fired were rifle armor-piercing rounds.
Quite a few imps that had just flown out of the Hell rift were struck directly through the eye sockets by the flying bullets, their heads blown apart. Like pigeons with their heads shot off, they fell from the sky.
Hell had no law or concept of "death," but that did not mean the mortal world, which balanced Heaven and Hell, did not.
Once they left Hell's domain, they would gain the life they so desperately desired—and also face the threat of death, though they might fall back into Hell and endure the punishment of the fires of judgment.
"This scent is absolutely wonderful."
The Clown Dragon flew out of the Hell rift with its wings beating. It took a deep sniff, its eyes rolling upward, wearing the addicted expression of a junkie taking a hit.
"Then have some more! Welcome!"
Miao Mu pulled out a strangely shaped grenade. His arm muscles tensed, and after a two-step run-up, he hurled the grenade straight at the Clown Dragon's membranous wing.
The spinning grenade cut through the air and landed on the Clown Dragon's wing. It looked like throwing a bottle of mineral water at a cargo ship.
But then came the explosion, the flashing white light, the corrosive force, and the sudden change in the Clown Dragon's expression.
All of it demonstrated the power of that grenade loaded with highly concentrated