Six in the evening, about an hour left until it was completely dark.
It was late autumn, verging on winter; the weather had begun to turn cold.
I didn't know if it was my imagination, but I always felt a chill, as if the cold of this year's autumn had come earlier and was more biting than in previous years.
Khang had spent the entire afternoon teaching me how to use some simple firearms.
Speaking of which, I also had to thank that time in college; he insisted on dragging me to the shooting club for fun during summer break.
Having had contact with them before, learning again now wasn't too complicated.
What astonished me was Khang's particularly outstanding shooting ability; his level of proficiency with guns was, at a glance, clearly professional.
When Khang held a gun, his aura was extremely sharp. His eyes, which usually smiled, became as sharp as a knife.
His entire demeanor was no longer gentle as before but became somewhat oppressive, and there was an unspoken feeling.
