The sky collapsed.
This was the only thought that flashed in Zheng Qing's mind at this moment.
Without being there, it's hard to imagine the feeling of an enormous hand falling above oneself—perhaps when a person stands by the sea, watching massive waves tens of meters high rush toward them; or when someone jumps from a skyscraper, each story flashing by as the ground approaches, might experience a similar pressure.
A helplessness and lack of action alike.
Almost instinctively, Zheng Qing skillfully opened the magazine, loaded a blood symbol bullet, then raised the gun, shooting without even aiming—with a bang, fired toward the sky above.
Bang!
A faint red spell light drew a straight red line that pierced the sky.
"Too early."
