Spending the rest of his life in a wheelchair was more frightening than death, for him.
But years of army life had helped him maintain an outward calm.
He looked deeply at Song Heping and nodded slowly.
"Whose people are you?"
He asked in a low voice, his steps already moving forward.
"The God of Wealth's people."
Song Heping said with a smile, applying a little more pressure with the gun barrel.
On both sides of the corridor, Ivan and Miroslav had already dealt with all six guards, dragging the bodies behind the fire cabinet and decorative plants.
The whole process took only twelve seconds.
Little Masoud emerged from behind the tool cart, pale but with determined eyes.
He took a deep breath and followed behind Rashid, replacing Song Heping, and pressed a gun to Rashid's vital spot.
Rashid didn't recognize him.
He only felt that this person seemed familiar.
The group quickly moved towards the studio door.
Inside the door, there was the sound of a busy crowd.
