Chapter 1692: Who Are You?

The man in black who held the little girl was completely focused on Joyce's action of throwing the gun, completely unaware of her other movements. He couldn't even imagine it.

A flash of silver light dazzled.

He didn't have time to react. He only felt intense pain in his wrist, and the gun he had pointed at the little girl fell to the ground.

In that instant.

Reuben pounced forward, twisting the wrist of the man holding the little boy hostage, and forcefully threw the man aside, instantly rescuing the hostage.

Meanwhile, when Joyce saw the gun drop from the criminal's hand, she swiftly picked it up again.

Almost simultaneously, as she picked up the gun, several shots rang out. Sᴇaʀch Thᴇ FɪndNovᴇl.nᴇt website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

The man holding the little girl hostage and the previously fallen, recovering man in black were instantly brought down by her shots. Then, with a "swish" sound, the silver light flashed, and the spinning dart made a perfect return to her left hand.

At this moment, she was kneeling on one knee, holding the gun in her right hand, and between her index and middle fingers of her left hand was a silver spinning dart, displaying a dazzling and beautiful posture. Reuben was almost dumbfounded. It was too beautiful.

He always wanted to see it with his own eyes, just how

were frightened, they were fortunate enough to witness Joyce's

that she completely

of a warlord, a sharpshooter. Not only was her marksmanship excellent, but her skill with

the criminals in the

in bomb suits

Put down your gun!" one of the special police officers shouted at

the ground, and then she raised her hands. Anderson hid behind her, peeking

can't tell who's good and who's bad," Anderson muttered,

the special police officer who had yelled earlier

"Don't move. Behave."

and said disdainfully, "Are you blind? She just saved all the children. What's the use of your arrival? You're pointing a gun at her. Do you

subdued all the

officer walked up to Joyce, wearing

black lying on the ground, each one hit in the wrist with extreme precision. The

"Yes. I shot them

daughter and rebuked, "It was her. She shot down the criminals just now. But it was so dangerous. The criminal had already pointed a gun at my daughter's head, and she didn't care about the child

trembling as she shouted. She was terrified; her child had narrowly escaped death. If

believe the

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