Even as the rain fell upon his face, he did not blink, his gaze fixed coldly on the distance like a hawk.
Following the direction of his stare, some seven or eight yards away, a withered vulture was feasting on the rotting carcass of a wild dog, pausing now and then to scan its surroundings with wary eyes. It seemed that in this dangerous, ruined landscape, the slightest rustle would send it instantly into the air.
The young man waited patiently, like a hunter, for his moment.
Chapter 517