Ma Xuan jerked his head to the side, as Wang Anquan's electric baton came dangerously close, almost touching his eyeballs.
He cast a sinister sidelong glance at Wang Anquan, correcting his judgment:
"Alright, there are three of them. What exactly did Feng Mu instill in their minds?"
Among the trio, Ma Xuan judged Guan Chong to be the most affected by Feng Mu's influence, because his hand holding the gun remained rock-steady, his gaze calm.
Within that calmness lurked unfathomable madness.
However, the person who brought the most pressure to Ma Xuan at this moment was Jiang Li, because his hand holding the gun was trembling uncontrollably. It was terrifying; Ma Xuan's scalp tingled with each tremor.
Feng Mu smirked, quite pleased with the transformation of the three.
He noticed Ma Xuan's legs bending as if to retreat, so he said with a gentle smile:
"Don't move back; the blood has already splattered on your pant leg. The more you avoid it, the harder it is to clean."
