On the outer ring highway, the stream of traffic was like weaving shuttles, and the sound of horns echoed endlessly.
Night Owl gripped the steering wheel tightly, his gaze like a hawk staring at the silent night ahead.
There stood a solitary television signal tower, with its red aviation light flickering rhythmically at the top, like a beating heart.
Continuing four kilometers in this direction, there was the unfinished building area located in the East Suburb.
A dozen minutes ago, there were gunshots suddenly from Ghost Scythe's end, who was originally in communication with him, and then the signal was completely cut off.
No matter the call or reconnection attempts, all that responded was the "zzzz" sound of electric currents.
"Damn, what the hell happened?"
Night Owl's brows were tightly knit, his foot lowered the accelerator by another notch, and the sports car engine roared like a beast.
