"Ah—"
Ling Yueru was terrified and let out a scream, crouching down and hugging her head.
Similarly, the two auxiliary police officers were so frightened that they squatted on the ground, and what was more exaggerated was that the unlucky man directly collapsed on the ground, scared to the point of urinating himself, his face pale and frightening.
"What kind of crappy thing is this, so slow and yet supposed to be used for killing?"
After a while, everyone suddenly heard Yan Moshan's voice. Then, one by one, they raised their heads to look at Yan Moshan.
At that moment, they saw Yan Moshan still fiddling with the handgun, but in his other hand, he was pinching a bullet that had been flattened by his fingers.
The spectators were dumbfounded, staring at Yan Moshan in disbelief and found themselves at a loss for words.
Only Yan Moshan continued to hold the gun, and then he tossed the bullet onto the ground, saying,