Under the evening sun, the setting rays flooded the deck of the twelfth floor of the Pearl.
On the deck, the government officials and business tycoons who were conversing merrily in small clusters were struck with terror, cowering on the ground, their faces ashen and bodies trembling.
The ground was littered with blood-caked bodies of two officials, three business tycoons, and two special agents. Five of those were motionless and lifeless — deathly still, while two of them were gasping for air, their bodies faintly trembling, soaked with their own blood.
The air on the deck was laden with a fog of blood. The pungent, sickening stench of it triggered bouts of vomiting from some of those present.
In less than a minute, the twelfth-floor deck had morphed into a living Hell.
In Chen Fan's arms, Chen Fei looked at him pleadingly, his otherwise pale face begging for help. "Chen... Chen Fan, save... save me..."
"Gulp... gulp..."