The projection of Shangrila radiated across a vast expanse instantly, yet from an even higher celestial vantage point, looking down, it was nothing more than a glimmer amidst the layers of stormy gray and black in the satellite imagery.
So small.
"Finally…"
In the garrison base of Tower City, Fan Yun stood with his hands behind his back, his eyelids lifted slightly, catching a glimpse of that faint light.
"After some grass beating to scare the snake, something finally jumped out."
He sneered coldly and turned away:
"It's a desperate struggle."
.
.
"I feel like I might die soon."
Since evening, the sky had been overcast, pressing heavily on one's chest, with gusts of humid breeze failing to dispel the heat, making it even harder to breathe.
In the frontline base, the frontline commander of the rapid response unit, Liang Mo, slumped in his chair, sighing long and hard, downing bottle after bottle of soda.
