Bigshot's Sweetie Is a Cat!

"Bang! Bang! Bang!"

In the outskirts of the Holy City, gunshots splintered the night.

The gunshots were rampant, casting shadows under the bright moonlight as the small forest blazed, the deafening sounds startling birds into scattered flight.

"Young Master, you go first, we'll cover the rear," said a man in white as he swiftly replaced his magazine, reloaded, and continued to eliminate enemies.

The man known as Young Master dodged a bullet and agilely took cover behind a tree before counterattacking from his disadvantaged position.

In the darkness, the man's face wasn't clear, but his eyes, filled with a deadly aura, gleamed with a bloodthirsty chill, embedded in his intermittently shadowed handsome face under the faint moonlight.

His shooting was ruthless, with a bullet fired and someone inevitably falling.

Upon hearing the man in white, Jun Moyan did not respond immediately.

Instead, he took out the nearest enemies and rescued a subordinate. During a spare moment while reloading, he finally replied,

"Focus on the fight."

His voice was as cold as the chilling bullet tips in the night, seemingly capable of piercing brains and claiming lives with its icy yet commanding deterrence.

Of course, the effect would have been greater had his breath not been disordered due to a shoulder wound.

His words were a command.

The man in white couldn't defy nor was surprised by such a response.

But he still wanted Jun Moyan to leave first since the enemy had superior numbers and the Young Master was injured.

After failing to convince him, the man in white threw himself wholly into the battle to protect him as best he could.

As more bodies fell, the gunshots decreased, with both sides suffering nearly half their numbers in losses.

"Young Master, I've run out of bullets," the man in white gasped, his back against a tree, holding an empty magazine in his hand.

As soon as he finished speaking, a black object was thrown at him, which he caught steadily.

It was a dagger.

Following the dagger was a simple and forceful word,

"Fight!"

Before the man in white could react, a figure, like a hungry wolf hunting in the night, whirled past him with a gust.

Jun Moyan had already rushed out ahead of him.

The man in white took the dagger, joined by a few comrades who also had no bullets, and charged forward.

In the night, they were like demons, coordinating seamlessly, their blood-stained daggers relentlessly claiming lives.

With every flash of cold light, the daggers were raised and then fell with unstoppable force.

As bodies kept falling, the blood that spurted out was like rain in the night, dying the dark earth red…

A few minutes later, the forest returned to tranquility, as if settling dust, the thick scent of blood stinging the nostrils and spreading throughout the forest.

It gave the pitch-black forest a touch of eeriness.

Along with the bodies lying dead with eyes wide open, it was as if one was in the midst of hell.

"Young Master."

The man in white quickly sheathed his blade, not even having time to catch his breath, and hurriedly came to Jun Moyan's side, supporting him.

Jun Moyan's knife-holding hand gently touched his injured left shoulder.

His entire left arm was soaked in blood, the blood slowly streaming down to his palm, gathering at his fingertips, and finally dripping onto the ground, merging into the dark soil…

His face, pale from the injury, was splattered with a few drops of fresh blood, giving him an indescribably sinister and imposing appearance.

With the killing aura still lingering in his eyes, he was like a Rakshasa emerging from hell, chilling to the bone.

"It's nothing."

His breath was slightly erratic. He glanced at the bodies strewn on the ground, the killer intent in his eyes gradually surged, cooling the surrounding air by a few degrees.