Almost at the same moment, Shen Jiayin rushed to the scene and heard the hostage screaming for help. Without thinking, she lunged forward to grab the head of the stretcher, but just as her hands gripped one end, the stretcher had already tilted too far, and she couldn't hold it back alone. At this moment, it was too late for her to let go, and the downward momentum of the stretcher dragged her down the slope along with it.
Standing on the slope, Lun Xiaoman looked down into the pitch darkness below, the depth below unfathomable; those who fell down were likely doomed. She patted her hands, curved her lips in satisfaction, bent over, and laughed heartily.
A pair of hands, cold hands, suddenly grabbed her collar from behind, then her head was directly pressed into the sand.
Caught off guard, Lun Xiaoman swallowed a mouthful of sand. When she raised her head in panic, she saw the face of a man with a dark gloomy face before her.
"Feng Yongzhuo?"
