A sense of artistic conception suddenly disappeared.

Silently, it's gone.

A Zhenwu Realm Priest burst into blood in his chest, looked down at his chest in disbelief, and then fell to the ground with no power.

He probably never thought that he would die like this. Compared to decades of hard work, it was too unworthy of death.

He should have been a tiger, but now he is dead as calm as an ant.

The other worshipper was lucky, but he was not shot. Only a bullet almost slashed by his left arm.

This made him feel a little hot and painful.

It also dispelled the courage in his heart.

He never thought that the Zhenwu Realm would die so easily. But his colleague and the bullet that cut his skin forced him to accept this reality.

Under the Song army's Shenlong gun, the Zhenwu realm masters could no longer be able to come and go freely among the troops as before.
Chapter completed!