At the desolate end of the street, a human shadow suddenly appeared.
He was sticking close to a broken wall by the roadside, slowly moving forward, occasionally looking around as if on guard against something.
The man was wearing a filthy set of camouflage clothing, holding a pistol in his hands, his hair dirty and disheveled, emitting a strong, strange odor.
His bloodshot eyes and nervously trembling lips all but revealed the fear in his heart.
The stiffness in his steps indicated that he was severely depleted of energy.
Worst of all was his mental state; tense, panicky, seemingly on the verge of collapse.
At this moment, he was looking up, intently staring in the direction of the building. The faint shouting that he could barely make out excited him.
"Are they coming to rescue me? Are they calling for me? ...No, it doesn't matter, whoever it is, please save me... Otherwise, even if I'm not caught, I can't hold on much longer..."
