The canoe in the telescope is slowly moving, its speed seemingly tied to Chen Zhou's heartbeat.
The blurred, tan-colored heads on the canoe formed a row, making it impossible to distinguish between men and women.
The paddles stirred the waves, creating ripples and surges.
The wind atop the mountain suddenly turned fierce, taking a deep breath; besides the salty tang of the ocean, there seemed to be a metallic blood scent carried along.
…
Chen Zhou had already put down the flintlock gun slung over his shoulder, opened the cloth bag, and, head bowed, meticulously wiped and inspected all the firearms.
These deadly weapons had ejected many bullets during practice, yet hadn't claimed any human lives.
Now, their peaceful facade had been removed; it was time for the fangs to be revealed.
Chen Zhou always valued things concerning life highly; these firearms were inspected weekly to ensure they performed excellently in actual combat.
