"Let's move."
Ya Tianxing said lazily, as if he was giving an order to run two laps around the playground, calm and casual, not even worth his extra attention.
A platoon, no more than thirty people.
No support around.
At this distance, even gunfire wouldn't reach the main camp.
This round is entirely a massacre.
A massacre of two against a platoon.
They don't even need to use too much effort.
The moment the last syllable of Ya Tianxing fell, Mo Shangjun immediately raised the rifle to eliminate targets one by one.
After a round of shooting, the smoke signifying elimination rose into the air, the sudden elimination catching them completely off guard — what just happened?
They stood there in confusion, looking at each other.
Some quick-reacting veterans had started running towards obstacles at the sound of gunfire, but they were Mo Shangjun and Ya Tianxing's first targets, and thus "perished" during their escape.
