However, the marksman soon lost the smile on his face.
Wilbur's body somehow arched around the bullets in a gravity-defying turn that made it look like he had no bones.
All three shots missed him by a hair's breadth once more.
The marksman got another shot in, but Wilbur had already landed on the building and was slowly making his way over.
The marksman gripped his gun and started backing away.
He was drenched in cold sweat by the time his back hit the edge of the building. There was nowhere left for him to run.
Gritting his teeth, he raised his gun once again.
Just then, Wilbur waved his hand.
A crescent blade aura shot out, slicing the marksman's weapon clean in half along with one of the marksman's arms.
He cried out in agony as he clutched his wound and stared at Wilbur in terror.
Wilbur stopped a few meters before him, eyeing him coldly. "Who ordered you to kill me?"
The marksman did not want to answer, but an invisible fear seemed to have taken complete hold over him.
Within a few seconds, the marksman felt like he was in hell.
Countless monsters and demons ripped and tore at his soul, dragging him deep into the depths of hell.
What greeted him at those depths was an endless bloody river.
Countless bones and skeletons bobbed on the surface of the river, some of them seemingly alive as they flailed about and cried out in agony in the river.
The overwhelming terror broke the marksman down in mere seconds.
He collapsed to the ground, trembling from head to toe. "We were only following Chastin's orders! Please spare me, Mister Penn!"
Chastin Longman, the head of inventory.
Wilbur smiled and turned to leave.
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