Feng Biao had never experienced such treatment in his life, a private plane exclusively for him—it was more than exhilarating, it was downright heavenly.
Everything felt so unreal, eerie in every aspect.
If he wasn't running into ghosts, then there must be some conspiracy.
In fact, Feng Biao regretted boarding the plane the moment he did, because he felt his life was worthless, his reputation was worse than poor—it was universally detested. And yet someone was willing to receive him with such high standards—it surely meant they were after his life.
Assassin's businesses were tough to get.
If it weren't for his tarnished reputation in the mercenary circle, finding it difficult to get any work, Feng Biao would never have accepted an assassin's contract.
Now, trapped on this proverbial pirate ship, it seemed too difficult to get off.
He just had to tough it out.