On the table before him appeared a black pair of old cast iron scissors, their surface covered in rust.
If Wang Yong and Feng Xiaoyan were here, they would certainly recognize them at a glance; these scissors were the ominous instrument that cut off their entire faces.
Perhaps it was psychological, but Yang Xiao looked at the scissors with complex thoughts, even seeming to detect a bloody odor emanating from them.
Their mission involved a total of 10 people, with 6 surviving at the end, resulting in a survival rate of sixty percent, which was notably high among the missions Yang Xiao had encountered.
In Yang Xiao's mind, most missions concluded with only 3 or 4 people surviving, which was considered quite good.
But this didn't mean the difficulty of this mission was low; in reality, it was quite perilous—in the final night, had he failed, it would have been complete annihilation, with no one able to escape.
