The whole nation is trying to survive on the cable car; I'm choosing one of three options at ea

Dark red blood gushed from the wound, flowing down the gun barrel and dripping onto the ground—one drop, two drops, three drops.

He looked down at the spear in his hand, dark red blood gushing from the hole in his palm, staining his white gloves and the white feathers on his wings dark red.

He looked at Su Mu again... Su Mu was leaning against the tree trunk, maintaining a throwing posture, his right hand still outstretched, his fingers slightly spread.

His expression was as calm as a stagnant pool, and there was no emotion in his dark eyes.

Prosciutto's expression changed from smug to horrified.

His lips were trembling, his body was trembling, and his wings were trembling.

He dared not look at Su Mu, dared not look at the spear nailed to his hand, dared not look at the box falling from the sky.

All he wanted to do was run away.

He abruptly pulled the spear from his hand.

When the spear tip was pulled from his palm, it brought with it a spray of blood and bits of flesh. Fresh blood gushed from the wound, splattering on his face, clothes, and wings.

He let out an even sharper scream than before, and then threw the spear down from the air.

The spear hit the ground, bounced, rolled a few times, and came to rest in a pile of fallen leaves.

Lin Xiaohe rushed out while the box was still falling through the air.

She moved as fast as a cheetah pouncing on its prey, arriving before the box even hit the ground and catching it steadily with both hands.

The box bounced in her palm, and a yellow light leaked through her fingers, casting flickering light on her face.

She turned around, walked up to Su Mu, and handed him the box.

Su Mu took the box, weighed it in his hand, and then put it into his backpack.

He didn't look at Proscius, not even lifting his eyelids.

Proscius ran away.

Its wings flapped wildly, as fast as an out-of-control helicopter, wobbling and stumbling.

Blood was still oozing from his hands, and with each flap of his wings, drops of blood fell from the sky, dripping onto the ground, onto fallen leaves, and onto the faces of the survivors who looked up at him.

No one speaks.

Everyone looked up at the white figure that was disappearing into the distance, at those white wings that they had once envied, resented, and longed for, now resembling a wounded bird fleeing in disarray under the moonlight.

The person they once called "S-level rating," "angelic bloodline," and "the strongest in the future" now only has one image in their eyes... a thief, a robber, a despicable person who stands idly by when others are fighting desperately, takes advantage of others' misfortunes when others are injured, and kicks others when they are weak.

Zhao Derong propped himself up halfway from the ground, looked in the direction where Proxiu had disappeared, and spat.

"Pah." His voice wasn't loud, but the word "pah" was exceptionally clear in the quiet camp.

Liu Yang released his hand, and Fang Lin took the arrow off the bowstring.

Chen Mo squatted on the ground and swished his tail.

"I knew he wasn't a good person." His voice was soft and his tone was flat, as if he were saying something he had known all along.

His teammates nodded.

Su Mu leaned against the tree trunk and closed his eyes.

His face was still pale, his breathing was still rapid, and his body was still trembling slightly.

He was acting, and he was acting very well.

It was so good that no one doubted he was acting; it was so good that everyone felt he had paid a huge price, just like Bai Liuxi; it was so good that when Proshu snatched the box, they felt angry, frustrated, and heartbroken for him.

Lin Xiaohe stood next to Su Mu, her short sword hanging at her side, her head bowed, like a statue.

Her fingers gently stroked the hilt of the knife, a habitual gesture she made when she was thinking.

She wondered if Su Mu had really used all his strength in that shot just now.

She wasn't sure, but she knew that Su Mu had countless ways to kill Proxiu... The spear could pierce his heart, his head, or his throat.

But Su Mu chose to pierce his hand, choosing to let him escape alive.

Lin Yuwei squatted not far away, and the silver-spotted leopard cub circled around her feet.

She frowned slightly as she looked at Su Mu's pale face and trembling body.

She wondered if his injury was real or fake.

She wasn't sure, but she knew that Su Mu never wasted his energy on unimportant things.

If he doesn't think Proshu is worth killing, then Proshu isn't worth killing.

Chen Jun emerged from behind the big tree, carrying a bulging backpack and a bag of things in his hand.

He stood behind Su Mu for a long time, his lips moved as if he wanted to say something, but he said nothing.

He lowered his head, placed the backpack at his feet, then squatted down and opened the bag... Inside were several bottles of mineral water and several packets of compressed biscuits.

He took out a bottle of water, unscrewed the cap, and placed it next to Su Mu.

Bai Liuxi stood up from the ground.

Her legs were still trembling, her hands were still trembling, but she stood up.

She looked in the direction where Prosci had disappeared, her eyes, now back to normal, devoid of any emotion.

She didn't speak, offer any comment, or express any opinion.

She glanced at it, then turned and walked back to the defensive line.

Old Wei followed behind her, Zhao Cheng followed behind her, A Qi followed behind her, and Xiao Jiu followed behind her.

The five people were like five trees ravaged by a storm; their branches and leaves had fallen, their trunks were crooked, but their roots were still firmly planted in the soil.

Su Mu leaned against the tree trunk with his eyes closed.

He tapped his fingers lightly twice on his knee.

They run quite fast, though.

His lips twitched slightly, not in a smile, but in a more subtle, cold tone, as if saying, "Next time it won't be so cheap."

He knew that Prosciutto wouldn't let it go easily; that kind of person wouldn't learn his lesson until he was taught a lesson.

Next time, he won't give him a chance to escape.

Su Mu had just put the box into his backpack, his fingers still on the zipper...

The sky cracked open.

It's not a metaphor, not an exaggeration, not the kind of "sky cracking open" that poets use to describe the prelude to a storm.

It really cracked.

The night sky was like a black curtain torn in the middle, with a huge crack running through the entire horizon from east to west and from south to north.

A dark red light flowed along the edge of the crack, like an unhealed wound with the flesh at the edge still curling outwards. A dark red, viscous, magma-like substance seeped out of the crack, dripping down and hitting the ground, creating one crater after another that emitted white smoke.

An overwhelming pressure surged out from the crack.

It wasn't an aura, nor a murderous intent, but a crushing pressure... like an invisible mountain made of steel and rock, pressing down from the sky onto everyone's chest.