The remaining seven people finally understood what terror meant.
Invisible shadows of death lingered, and in the next second, they might meet their doom.
What was even more terrifying, the person just now wasn't killed by a bullet, but by a tiny iron nail.
That's right, just a tiny iron nail, accurately hitting the forehead of the comrade just now.
There wasn't even any reaction before he died just like that.
"Boss, that wasn't a bullet, it was an iron nail..." As he spoke, the person swallowed, looking sorrowful, with an expression like someone trapped with no way out of a desperate situation.
The man in charge also saw it; it was indeed not a bullet, but an iron nail.
"Don't panic, he's a man, not a god..." The leader repeated these words. Having roamed the battlefields for years, he knew that once fear spread, his men would lose confidence. The defeat would be as swift and inevitable as a collapsing mountain, and everything would be over.
