Finn Miller didn't use a gun; he felt that a knife was more suitable at this moment. In the jungle, Finn's favorite weapon was a melee weapon. A combat dagger was perfect.
The distance was constantly decreasing, from two hundred meters to one hundred meters, and when it was less than one hundred meters, Finn Miller seized the opportunity and threw his combat dagger in an arc. Finn did not stop while throwing the knife, but continued to run forward. In less than a few meters, Finn Miller saw the mercenary who had just fallen.
The mercenary clutched his neck, blood streaming down his face. His large eyes stared wide-eyed in disbelief, clearly unable to comprehend how his opponent's combat throw could be so accurate from such a distance.
Finn Miller quickly stepped forward, grabbed a throw
