"Damn it." Plath cursed to himself in his heart, trying to speed up his pace and move forward, but his stiff body dragged him down. He didn't know what was wrong with his body? Maybe it's because the person glared at him, but when he looked at him, would he have such a reaction? This made him a little incredible, and at the same time, he had to connect the two together, which was really a terrible look.

I'm in very good health, this damn bastard. He cursed inwardly, but it didn't help to change his current situation, as more and more people gathered around, and even some daring children began to pull his backpack behind him. He didn't dare to look back, because it was a delay, and he just wanted to quickly get through the crowd that was getting thicker and thicker. But the more anxious he became, the more unhappy he became, and finally he felt that his backpack was about to be ripped off, so he turned around sharply, raised his pistol and turned it to the man in front of him who was about to rip off his backpack.

It was a child's face, black and thin, and his dirty little hands were pulling at one of the straps of his backpack, and he wanted to let go of it timidly when he saw Plath turn his head. The muzzle of the black hole was pressed against the child's head, and Plath said in his most trembling and vicious voice: "Get out, get out of the way, or you'll die." ”

He had no pity for these little children, he knew that this was a world of the jungle, and if he showed the slightest hesitation and timidity, these people would flock to them