"Sss, I'm fine..."
Zhao Hua covered his face, hissing through gritted teeth, both to reassure Zhou Yang and also to comfort himself.
Because just a moment ago, he felt as if he had one foot in the grave.
The blast wave of the bullet hit him squarely on the face.
Making it impossible for him to breathe.
"Take your hand away, let me see!"
Zhou Yang urgently grabbed Zhao Hua's hands, forcefully prying them apart, revealing a face smeared with red—all specks of blood caused by the splattered sand and grit.
"Sss..."
Maybe it was the adrenaline wearing off.
Only now did Zhao Hua feel the burning pain on his face. He slowly opened his eyes, discovering his left eyelid was unresponsive and his vision was a blur.
"Zhou Yang, what's wrong with my left eye!"
"Your left face wasn't shielded by binoculars; it got hit by debris; your eyelid is fully swollen. Hold still, let me treat the wound!"
