The Man Who Would Not Fall
The four men suddenly ignited with excitement.
Their voices rose in rough laughter and shouts, echoing across the quiet hillside. One of them even flicked away his cigarette carelessly, the glowing ember landing in the dry grass.
For a moment it almost looked like the hill itself might catch fire.
Their blood was boiling.
Their minds filled with visions of glory.
In their intense anticipation—
The headlights finally appeared.
A car was approaching along the narrow road.
"Target's here," the gaunt man muttered, his thin lips curling into a grin.
The black Bentley rolled closer.
Twenty meters.
Ten meters.
Before the car could even stop—
The four men exploded into motion.
Like leopards descending on prey.
The gaunt-faced man raised his arm sharply.
A dagger flashed in the moonlight.
Whoosh—
The blade flew through the air with deadly precision.
CRACK!
The dagger pierced straight through the windshield.
The glass shattered inward.
