Munitions Empire

Chapter 472 459 something terrible has happened

"Damn it! Who's firing the guns? Who? Who!" A bandit officer wielding a long saber desperately questioned his subordinates from behind the gate of his mountain stronghold.

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On the wooden ramparts of the stronghold, soldiers armed with matchlocks fell one by one to the sound of gunfire, and now none dared poke their heads out to glance at the terrifying forest beyond.

Are you kidding? The moment anyone stuck out their head, gunshots would echo from the forest within seconds, and then the head of the soldier who peeked out would burst open like a watermelon struck by a stick.

"It must be demons! Have we... have we enraged the mountain gods..." A soldier, unsettled, swallowed his saliva and timidly suggested.

As soon as the words left his mouth, the officer backhandedly struck him across the neck with his saber. The soldier widened his eyes at his leader, momentarily forgetting to scream.

Blood spurted at the moment the long saber was drawn out, and the soldier collapsed, instantly lifeless.

"Those who disturb the morale, kill!" The bandit leader flicked his long saber and raised the matchlock gun in his other hand, loudly reminding his subordinates, "Hold the line! Hold it!"

Having killed so many innocents, he was long desensitized, uncaring and unafraid of any mountain spirits or evil ghosts.

What truly intimidated him was the sharp report of gunfire outside; he feared the arrival of Zheng Country's Official Army to eradicate their base, feared an invasion by the people from Dongshan!

But with the high, treacherous mountains here, there was no way the enemy's cannons could be brought up, and from below the mountains, they couldn't use artillery to attack either—as long as they held out, the enemy would find little they could do to breach these sturdy wooden walls. Once the enemy went searching for explosives, they could withdraw at leisure, and that would be days from now.

Before he could take pleasure in that thought, a massive explosion engulfed the stronghold's gate, sending shards of wood and billowing smoke that enveloped him completely.

Countless splinters created a storm, slicing through his flesh. After the blast wave swept past, he was sent flying.

Amid the lingering gunpowder smoke, a bandit stationed further away saw their domineering leader roll to a halt right before him.

Just moments after having killed an unfortunate soul, that leader lay face-up on the ground, his face studded with wooden shards and embedded with pebbles...

Upon closer inspection, it wasn't an intact bandit leader that had been flung towards him, but rather half of one. One of his arms and one leg were gone without a trace, blood spraying everywhere.

The sight sent a shiver through the soldier, who dropped his long saber and ran without looking back, even forgetting to check if his superior was still breathing.

The bandit leader was indeed dead; the explosion had shattered his internal organs, and the shockwave had sliced his body apart—how could mere mortal flesh withstand such a brutal blast?

After all, wasn't that a mortar designed specifically for mountain warfare, easily capable of destroying a wooden gate?

With the gate destroyed, the surrounding bandits were thrown into disarray. They were tough enough when bullying the common folk, but against the Official Army, they stood no chance at all.

Upon hearing the roar of the cannons, their souls fled, their courage to fight drained away. Those with a smidgen of spirit picked up their matchlocks and fled, while those less concerned simply abandoned everything and turned tail.

Are you kidding? When the real Official Army brought even cannons, it was evident they were bent on exterminating these bandits—how could they not flee?

They turned to banditry to scrape a living, and though they had killed, committed evils, looted grains, and defiled women, wasn't all that done under duress?

Born into a chaotic world, humans fared worse than dogs—whom could they blame? They had survived by taking many lives; they could not afford to die!

The justification, no matter how contrived, was clear. So, these bullies, who usually preyed on the common people, now fled without a backward glance.

One bandit, daring to look back from behind the wall of a wooden hut, saw only some trees that had come to life, rapidly moving through the destroyed gate.

As those green figures crossed the gate, they swiftly scattered, becoming harder to trace. But then, denser gunshots followed, and the slower bandits descending from the ramparts fell one by one onto the path.

"Spare us! We surrender!" A bandit knelt on the ground, repeatedly kowtowing and loudly begging for mercy.

At this sight, a few other passing bandits quickly knelt and bowed incessantly as well, their mouths crying out pleas for mercy: "We surrender! We surrender!"

"Tatata!" A strange figure with some unknown weapon and a pot on his head raised his hand, and flames spit from the peculiar weapon—several bandits begging on their knees slumped down.

This scene frightened the bandit peering from around the corner, who quickly withdrew his head—the path to surrender was so easily blocked.

It seemed that the other side wanted to kill people and silence them for good, it must be those damn officials from the Zheng Country who sent these men! It had to be! They had always been sending money to that official in the city, and the other side, fearing that these bandits would leak secrets, sent people to kill them to silence them!

Thinking this in his mind, the bandit turned and ran. But as soon as his body turned, he saw a monster standing on the other side of the wooden hut!

This monster was covered in grass and vegetation, it looked like a moving clump of plants. The bandit, terrified out of his wits, let out a scream and fell to the ground, sitting down with a thud.

The monster seemed to grow hands, pulled something out from his waist, and raised it toward him. The last thing the bandit saw was the flash of fire from the monster's hand, as well as heard the sound of a gunshot, and then everything went black as death devoured him.

The combat power, tactical level, and weaponry of both sides were not on the same level, so the entire battle was more like a one-sided massacre.

Only, the roles of these familiar massacres had swapped. The bandits who usually slaughtered civilians now became the ones being slaughtered.

Wearing white gloves and leather boots, the commander of the 1st Battalion, 2nd Regiment of the Marine Corps walked into the stronghold with his hands behind his back. He glanced at the bodies shattered by the explosion and furrowed his brow in disgust.

The battlefield was already lopsided, and there was no danger for him walking in at this time. He carefully stepped around the blood on the ground and glanced at his own soldiers who were knocking down bandits with their submachine guns in the distance.

A soldier, with the cooperation of a comrade, poked open the half-closed door of a wooden hut with the muzzle of his gun and took a quick glance inside the room.

The dark hut reeked of an awful stench, and the messy beds were all filled with naked women. They lay there like the walking dead, on the beds and the floor, dull-eyed looking at the door cracked ajar, then shifting their gaze away.

The women were emaciated, many showing signs of bedsores. They might not have bathed for a long time, many were scruffy with stains all over their bodies.

After confirming there was no danger in the room, a Marine covered his nose and took a closer look at the room, then stepped back out, looking at his ashen-faced comrade beside him.

"I say, do you still think the 'kill without mercy' order is cruel?" The veteran offered a pat on the rookie's shoulder and asked, "This is up to you?"

The rookie shook his head, checked the status of his submachine gun, and lifted his head, "You stay to take care of them. Leave the rest to me..."

An indescribable irritation caused him to stride towards the direction where the bandits were fleeing, and after seeing another bandit kneeling and begging for mercy, he didn't hesitate to raise his gun and fire, emptying a whole magazine in one go.

He tossed the empty magazine away, pulled a new one from the pouch under his ribs, inserted it into the gun, racked the slide, and then stormed forward with brimming rage.

"Disaster! Disaster! Boss! Boss! We lost the mountain gate!" A bandit scrambled up the stone steps to the finest large house in the stronghold, knelt down at the door, and shouted.

The burly bandit leader, clutching his flintlock, came out; the room was filled with the stench of blood. Two women on the bed were already decapitated, with their blood splattered everywhere.

The leader, with blood on his chest, looked at his smoking stronghold, his eyes full of rage and fury as he roared, "Bastards! You want to kill me? Not so easy! You just wait, I'll kill you all! All of you!"

"Wait till I come back! I will dismember each and every one of you bastards' family members! Just you wait, just you wait!" He glanced at the bandit kneeling at his feet, then turned and headed toward the back mountain, "Come on! Follow me! There's a secret passage on the back mountain..."

The bandit had just been waiting for these words and immediately followed his leader, casting a fearful glance back at the fallen stronghold, with eyes full of reluctance.

To kidnap so many women again, to establish such a stronghold again, to plunder so many treasures again, to hoard so much food... it won't be easy.

He wondered if he and the boss could make a comeback someday... Maybe he could be a small leader then. It would be great to be a small leader, getting more share of the spoils and being the first to sleep with women. Such a life would be delightful!

"I say, you still think you can run?" Suddenly, a clump of green grass spoke and startled both the boss and the bandit following him.

Before they could even draw their guns, they were horrified to see that it seemed like the whole woods around them came to life, with dozens of figures rising vaguely in the background.

"Was that you screaming just now? Ha! Still thinking about running? If every one of us gave you a kick, you'd turn into a photograph!" The commander of the 3rd Platoon, 1st Battalion smirked as he stepped out from behind the trees.

After saying that, he paused, annoyed, and waved his hand dismissively, "You don't even know what a photograph is, forget it."

As his words fell, dense gunfire echoed in the dense forest, and bullets coming from all sides sliced the two figures into pieces.

"This is the last gang on the nearby islands... right?" The platoon leader looked at the leaves splattered with blood and asked the old fisherman beside him.

"Yes," the old fisherman bowed his head, covering his eyes with a hand, trying not to let his tears flow—he had finally avenged his son!