Mo Shangjun watched as Ya Tianxing, in full combat gear, appeared in her line of sight, then he strode over to her.
It was rare to see this side of Ya Tianxing.
Camouflage combat uniform, communication helmet, face painted with camouflage paint, a gun slung over his shoulder.
It was not an ordinary Type 95 automatic rifle.
Mo Shangjun glanced over, noticing that the guns they were carrying were all high-end models, not typically seen with regular troops.
Ya Tianxing approached, his eyes scanning her, not detecting any serious injuries, only seeing her right arm limp, fingers trembling, and a scratch on her right cheek.
Moreover, she was covered in blood and looked disheveled.
The blood belonged to others.
The machete she held in her hand was still dripping blood.
Although looking pitiful, she exuded a lethal aura.
A contradictory existence.
Ya Tianxing's eyebrows furrowed tightly, then slowly relaxed, but his gaze remained dark, causing one's heart to tremble.
