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Liu Zhizhong just wrapped his arm around Zhang Qixiang's waist, still holding the swing stick against her neck, and shook his head at that guy, confidently saying:
"We're fifty or sixty meters apart, you might not hit me even if you shoot, and you're very likely to accidentally shoot Sister Qixiang, would that be worth it? At this distance, aiming for my head, I'm afraid that'd be quite difficult."
"This is life, this is reality, not a novel, not a movie. At this distance, hitting the head with a handgun, that's not marksmanship, that's a myth."
"Of course, you've been beaten so badly by me, the precision of your shooting is still greatly affected. You could chase after me, but it's no use, I can make it back to the car, I'll be faster than you."