The setting sun's dying rays spilled over the ancient primeval forest, golden beams piercing through gaps in the brush and dappling the ground below. Hidden in the midst of the dense shrubbery, Luo Zheng lay in ambush, still as death itself. His eyes were cold as he closely watched his surroundings, his bow drawn, like a ghost skirting the edge of death—his murderous intent concealed in his icy stare. Through the dense brush, he spotted a soldier approaching. Luo Zheng's eyes exploded with lethal intent, and with a slight release of his hand, an arrow flew forth.
"Ah!" A scream echoed as the wounded soldier fired his gun wildly, the bullets sailing into the air. Not far away, the pursuing enemies watched their surroundings alertly. Their eyes met nothing but shrubberies, an impossible place to locate their target, so they fired indiscriminately into the brush.