Rock had been waiting on the second floor for quite a while.
The first floor did not launch another attack.
"You!"
He gestured with his fingers to one of Batchai's men across from him.
"Come here."
"Me?"
The one he pointed at was somewhat confused.
"Yes, come here!"
The reluctant militant, who had a large mole on his face sprouting a tuft of long hair, moved in front of Rock.
"Go check the path."
He pointed to the stairwell.
The man with the tuft of hair paled instantly.
"They are right downstairs..."
"Stop the crap!"
Rock drew his pistol and pressed it against the tuft of hair's forehead.
The man with the tuft of hair licked his lips, feeling his throat go dry.
He looked around.
Nobody stood up for him.
The white man in front of him was Batchai's honored guest, and he also dared not defy the order; his boss had just said to listen to them.
"Hurry up! Or I'll blow your brains out!"
The man with the tuft of hair could only tremble as he held his gun and edged towards the stairs step by step.
When he reached the stairway, he looked back.
All he saw was sympathy.
Still, no one stood up for him.
And nobody said they would go with him.
"All damn fair-weather friends!"
Remembering how they would drink and play rock-paper-scissors together during leisure times, the man with the tuft of hair felt colder than the Arctic Ocean waters.
When there was drink and meat, everyone would boldly assume adversity together.
Now that he was in trouble...
Wouldn't it be better if several buddies had joined him, offering more hope?
They instantly became turtles hiding their heads!
Muttering under his breath, his legs shook as he slowly moved downstairs.
Upon reaching the banister, he stretched out his gun, sprayed a burst of bullets, then swiftly pulled back his hand.
—
After the gunfire, silence fell again.
There was no movement below.
Nobody shot back, nobody fired.
"Hmm?"
The tufted cat looked back towards Rock at the stairway entrance on the second floor.
"No one..."
He whispered softly, gesturing.
Rock coldly shook his pistol in his hand: "Keep going!"
The man with the tuft of hair felt extremely bitter inside.
Damn, if he had known this, he wouldn't have gotten so close to this grim reaper.
Out of so many people, he had to pick him.
Today really was not a good day to leave the house...
He could only continue to hold his gun and hug the wall as he walked down.
When he reached the corner, the tufted man stopped.
The moment he turned around the corner, the people on the first floor would see him.
This was the most dangerous spot.