Feng Jun had already reached the transcendent stage, and he slept very little. While he could sleep deeply, no matter how deeply he slept, there was always a trace of Divine Sense that was outwardly released, capable of communicating with the depths of his consciousness.
Five teenagers riding three motorcycles were making considerable noise, and when they were still three hundred meters away from Feng Jun's tent, he woke up.
He swept his Divine Sense outward, sensing the situation of the arriving people, and knew that communication through language was not possible.
He also didn't want to show his face, so he opened a crack in the tent's curtain, extended a hand out, holding a shotgun, and said, "Scram!"
"Oh, is there a gun?" A teenager riding alone on a motorcycle braked, the tail of the bike swung as it stopped, he pulled out a pistol, loaded a bullet, whistled, "Hey buddy, it's not like anyone doesn't have one of these."
