Even the dagger disappeared into thin air.
There were only a few bullets left in the rifle, which were soon spent.
The surrounding darkness returned, so silent it was suffocating.
Yet Fang Cheng could clearly feel the danger still lurking like a shadow, hiding in some unseen corner, waiting to strike.
Suddenly, a chill came over his shoulder, accompanied by a faint tingling sensation.
His clothes were torn, revealing a fine dark red line of blood seeping from his exposed muscle.
Fang Cheng glanced at it, his heart involuntarily tightened.
This dagger could so easily cut through the tough combat suit fabric and leave a wound on him, its sharpness was extraordinary.
At this moment, a voice eerily sounded:
"Your reactions are quite fast."
The voice was cold, eerie, with a hint of mockery.
It echoed in the deathly still workshop, as if a ghost were speaking.
