Lights flickered on, hanging from the rearview mirror, illuminating Celestial Horse Island's parking lot brightly. Members of the Cyan Dragon Corps got off their vehicles one after another, each holding a gun, rhythmically slapping their palms on their thighs. The muffled sound combined with their sophisticated equipment and synchronized steps created an intense sense of oppression!
Bang bang, bang bang, bang bang bang.
Following the slapping sound, about thirty people spread out in a semicircle, blocking the path leading down the mountain from the camp, making it nearly impossible for anyone to escape.
Clap clap, clap...
Gradually, the slapping stopped.
Standing in front of the camping lights, with their backs to the light, the breaths of the Cyan Dragon Corps were highly noticeable, curling into various shapes above their heads. No one could see their faces, creating a mysterious unknown and further piling up psychological fear.
