Firearms—the ultimate symbol of violence in modern society. Everyone nowadays knows just how deadly a gun can be.
One shot is all it takes to knock someone out of commission—or even send them straight to the afterlife.
The man in front of Jack Young was a professional hitman—no way he'd miss at this range. As that cold, black muzzle swung up toward him, Jack could practically feel death breathing down his neck.
The sense of impending doom was so intense, it squeezed every last drop of potential out of Jack Young in a split second.
Suddenly, the whole world slowed down.
Never before had things crawled this slow. Sure, Jack Young had felt things slow down in tense moments—like that scrap with Lillian Snow—but that was nothing, maybe twenty percent slower at best.
It’s like a movie dropping from a hundred frames per second to just eighty.
But right now, the world in Jack Young's eyes was moving at half speed—slower than ever before. His vision was supercharged: he could see every twitch as the gunman raised his arm, aimed, and pointed the barrel right at him.
Even Jack Young's body felt sluggish, like his Titan Spirit Method couldn’t keep up with his turbocharged reflexes. He could tell—by the time the gunman finished aiming, Jack would still be a whole meter away from reaching him.
One meter—the difference between life and death.