Outside the border, no-man's land
A figure stumbled desperately through the pitch-black night, his stamina nearly exhausted, his steps heavy and erratic.
Where he passed, a few drops of blood were inevitably left behind, making it all too easy for those behind to track him.
Xiaobai clutched his constantly bleeding left arm with the hand holding the gun.
Blood seeped through his fingers, dyeing his entire hand and the gun red, while his injured left arm was completely soaked in blood, which continuously flowed to his palm, quickly pooling at his fingertips before finally dripping to the ground, a ghastly sight.
After fleeing for an unknown amount of time, a few abandoned warehouses appeared before him, a timely refuge for Xiaobai who had been on the run for almost two hours.
Xiaobai glanced back, saw they hadn't caught up, and ducked into one of the warehouses.
The interior of the warehouse was extremely dark, the dust covering the ground making it hard to breathe.
