As the D-class personnel's brain burst, the Swearer's slight bow became hazy and ethereal, and the bullets that followed passed through him without leaving a trace.
The already arranged medical staff quickly entered, put the unfortunate person who had lost both hands onto a stretcher, swiftly picked up the severed hands from the ground for treatment—if they were fast enough, they should still be able to reattach them.
As the injured were taken away, the aftermath processing team also began to collect traces from the scene, while Mr. R, who had been solemnly saluted by Feng Xue from afar, was now leaning powerlessly against the wall. He was trying to breathe deeply to calm his emotions as he took out his phone and made a call:
"Ms. Q, the operation failed."
