Run.
Keep running.
Black No.1 felt like his lungs were about to explode, partly from exhaustion, partly from anger.
About thirty or forty meters ahead, a slightly hunched short figure wearing a black mask, revealing only a pair of mocking triangular eyes, was staring at him.
Black No.1 swore he didn't know this person at all, let alone could have offended him.
Today, he was merely secretly watching the Cyan Wolf Gang, hadn't even started anything when this short guy suddenly appeared behind him and bumped into him without any warning.
Then, like a flash, he ran off.
Black No.1 immediately sensed something was wrong and quickly gave chase.
This chase had been going on for nearly two hours now.
Several times he thought about stopping and giving up, the short guy would also stop and take out a phone and start tapping on it right in front of him.
It was his phone, damnit, what the hell could you be tapping for?
