Only the mournful caws of crows echoed in the distant sky.
Apparently, wild birds were startled and flew away by the recent gunshot.
Louisa Foster shivered with fear, watching the body on the ground.
A large pool of crimson blood spread through the soil and wild grass.
The stench was pungent and overwhelming.
It was truly terrifying.
And he couldn't even make a sound to beg for mercy.
Only his eyes were wide open, rolled back.
Clearly, he had breathed his last.
"You... why did you kill him..."
Louisa Foster pointed at Edbert Walker, who was holding a gun, trembling with fear, as if a ghostly trace of smoke was still emerging from the barrel.
"I helped you get rid of the trouble with the man you want, isn't that good?" In Edbert Walker's demonic blue eyes, a bloodthirsty madness gleamed.
To him, killing was like stepping on an ant, without batting an eye.
