The item in the palm of his hand was enough to render these black-clad figures speechless in astonishment and terror—a bullet.
Yes, the item in Xiao Yao's hand was none other than the six bullets they had just retrieved.
There were fourteen of them in total; one black-clad figure had six bullets, which meant there were still eight bullets unaccounted for, right?
When the person dressed in white opened his tightly clenched fist, eight bullets were indeed lying in his palm.
At this moment, the horrified faces of these men were clearly filled with the same shock and panic that had seized the nurse before.
They weren't afraid before because they had guns in their hands; as long as it was a human, a single shot would mean death—what else was there to worry about?
But now, they began to doubt whether these two were humans or ghosts?
A ghost would not have shadows under the light; yet, here were two. A human could not catch bullets; yet, they did.
Were they fucking with them?
