Qin Fen ignored the contempt on his face. With no threat present, there was no need to use divine power. He was a grandmaster of traditional martial arts—what was a bare-handed soldier king? Big Chef could teach him a lesson in minutes.
Qin Fen's ears had twitched earlier. Now he watched the other man with a smile. Locating someone by sound might have seemed miraculous, but Old Gun, a soldier king who had fought his way through mountains of corpses and Blood Seas, naturally possessed unique instincts. Though he could not pinpoint locations by sound, that did not stop him from reacting swiftly. In an instant, he raised his right arm. A gun? He instinctively believed Qin Fen now—there were no bullets in it.
His mind was in chaos, and he had long lost all composure. An experienced gunman could actually distinguish the tiny difference by weight, but unfortunately, he had no time to think about that. Big Chef pressed him step by step, leading him by the nose and giving him neither time nor opportunity.
As Old Gun raised his arm, his heart sank. He had already braced himself for a heavy blow, but the moment a black shadow entered his sight, his pupils constricted violently.
Fuck, how did this chihuahua jump so high? That made no sense! As he pondered that, Shorty viciously bit down on his wrist.
If he had just been puzzled by how high it had jumped, now Old Gun had only one question in his mind: How could it bite this painfully?
Shorty's vicious bite nearly cracked his wrist apart, showing no mercy whatsoever.
This was fucking unscientific! It was just a chihuahua! That was right, a pet dog that was trash among trash. Aside from barking arrogantly a couple of times, the thing