Chen Ping pointed to the eight or nine people surrounding him with long guns and short cannons from afar, dressed in black, and suddenly laughed, "If they are good people, then am I not a good person?
Have you ever seen good people pointing guns at others? Or are you saying that I should just stand still without resisting, and be shot to death, and that would be right."
Chen Ping's smile carried a tinge of desolation.
The rustic young man heard an order through his earpiece.
"Take action."
As sparks flew, the figure in the manor wearing a robe had long lost his genteel demeanor, moving swiftly like a spirit snake, rising high and dipping low, and at some point, two short guns appeared in his hands.
His spear technique was accurate, his body technique was fast, and under his fierce counterattack, he moved swiftly like a mountain spirit ape, while the bullets shot by the men in black on the courtyard wall missed their target, leaving a bloody hole in their foreheads.
