chapter 297 I want to raise

"Damn it, you son of a..." Weasel was about to rush forward to snatch the gun when Horacio suddenly made an inconceivable move. With a flick of his wrist, the silver revolver's cylinder snapped open. He then lightly slapped it on the table, and two bullets popped up high into the air. Swoosh— Horacio's gun-wielding hand swept forward, and the two bullets precisely slipped into the chambers. The cylinder whirled for a second with a rustle and snapped shut with a click. This series of fluid gunplay...