In the crevice, the Hunter expressionlessly pulled the bolt, ejected the scorching shell, gently caught it, and put it in his pocket.
After doing all this, he slid back into the hiding spot like a snake.
He was not greedy.
Greed could kill.
Just like the most patient of hunters, he only occasionally pulled the trigger, maintaining the chaos of the battlefield, ensuring that this blood feast wouldn't end too soon.
An hour passed amidst the deafening sounds of gunfire and the symphony of death.
On the eastern horizon, a faint, almost imperceptible grayish-white tinge began to show.
The darkest hour of the dawn was about to pass.
Song Heping glanced at his watch and then listened carefully to the sounds outside.
The attack frequency of the A-10 seemed to be decreasing, but the gunfire on the ground was still fierce, albeit more sparse and strained. Both sides had clearly paid a great price and were exhausted.
