After finally loading the musket in his hand, the gangster with scars on his face fled into a dilapidated house and looked at the situation outside through the window.
He saw one of his men brandishing a long knife and trying to fight an enemy, but he was shot in the chest and died instantly. He also saw someone kneel down and beg for mercy, but he was beaten to death as well, and even shot again.
At this time, he had confirmed that those madmen who came from unknown places might really not intend to let any of them go.
The other party didn't even mean to ask, and just greeted him with a gun! All he can do now is fight back! Desperate counterattack!
So, he reloaded the pistol, and the shot he had just missed missed the target.
There was nothing that could be done about it. The flintlock gun in his hand was not only old-fashioned, it had also been used for many years.
It's okay to scare people from two meters away, and it's okay to kill people within two meters, but when it comes to accuracy, it's definitely a joke. A musket with a front-loaded design, fired with black powder, and shot round projectiles. Isn't it a bit self-indulgent to say it's accurate?
What's more, as a gangster, he only fired a few bullets during soldier training, and usually used his gun at close range to scare and frighten the people.
At this level, how can it be possible to ensure shooting accuracy? The gunpowder he loaded was different every time, and he relied entirely on feeling.
So just now, although he aimed at a target, he missed it at all in the end - even he himself didn't know where the bullet went.
This time, he loaded the weapon again, and he was going to hit the target closer, trying to hit one! According to his plan, he would first hit and injure the person, and then take the other person as a hostage to escape...
He hid in the building and watched the situation outside from the window. When a Marine was cleaning the battlefield and approached, he stretched out the muzzle of his gun.
A crisp gunshot echoed in the air, and a bullet accidentally hit the hand holding the gun. In an instant, bones were broken and tendons were broken, and blood splattered.
The scarred man could even clearly see his two fingers flying in the air, as well as the broken bones and torn muscles.
His musket fell to the ground, and the beak hit the flint, causing a misfire. The shot raised a cloud of white smoke in the room, and the lead bullet penetrated Scar's shoe and shattered his foot. Fingers.
"Ah!" The scarred man screamed and fell to the ground. He held his right hand with only one thumb left in his left hand. His foot that had been shot curled up, and his whole body was shaking.
About eighty meters away from him, a sniper hiding behind a tree at the edge of the village was still holding the sniper rifle in his hand, aiming at the window where the Scar gangster had just poked his head out.
The scarred man, who was rolling on the ground in pain, continued to scream, because only in this way could the pain be slightly relieved.
The nearby Marines who heard the gunshots and shouts broke into the room and saw the "rolling salted fish" against the wall.
"Now you know that the ghost is screaming and it hurts, right?" A Marine walked over, stepped on the rolling scarred man with his foot, and asked with a sneer.
The other party was still screaming, and the Marine had no intention of getting an answer. He looked at the man's injuries, took out his dagger and stabbed the scarred man twice in the back.
"It will be easier for him to die immediately, but this time, no one can save him, let him wait here to die." The polemicist wiped his dagger on the tattered Zheng Guojun uniform of the scarred man. The team member stood up and said.
"Indeed! It would be too easy for these bastards to just kill them." The Marine, who didn't know that he had just been targeted by the scarred man, nodded in agreement.
He didn't know that his approval was almost equivalent to avenging himself across time and space. So he took another look at the scarred man who was lying on the ground and his breathing became a torture, and he led the people out of the house.
Blood continued to spread along the footprints on the ground, until it surrounded the flintlock gun left unattended on the ground.
The strong man who was the bandit leader hiding in another room had not thought about how to escape from this place when he heard the gunshots outside began to become sparse.
After he confirmed this, the gunfire outside the wall had subsided, and it seemed that the battle was over.
He brought a total of 40 bandit soldiers, which can be said to be overwhelming in numbers. But within a few minutes of the battle, the 40 bandit soldiers he brought with him were all turned into cold corpses.
They were no different from the people he killed. These corpses were all ugly. They were full of flesh and blood. They struggled, begged for mercy, and cried out when they were killed. They were exactly the same.
Carrying a long knife, he had swallowed a gulp of saliva, stabilized his already exploded mentality, and thought about how to escape.
He still has hundreds of men in the camp in the mountains. As long as he escapes there, he will have room to maneuver and figure out who is surrounding him and why he is being killed!
He never thought that he would die here, so now he was thinking about how to take revenge on these villagers after returning, and how to go to the Zheng officials in the city to get an explanation.
"Just wait for me..." The strong man clenched the handle of the knife and muttered through gritted teeth.
After a brief thought, he had already thought of a way to escape: he would hide here, and no matter who entered the house, he would rely on close combat to control them.
Relying on his skill, as long as someone walks in unprepared, he can take advantage of it by taking the first step. There is a high probability that he can restrain the opponent and then escape by holding him hostage.
If the people who come in are civilians, just wipe their necks and kill them! If they are soldiers, they will be captured and used as hostages to save their lives...
He kept mumbling in his mind, waiting for someone to come in at the door.
I don’t know how much time passed, but I could vaguely hear someone talking at the door. The sound was getting closer and closer, and the bandit leader tightened his grip on the handle of the knife in his hand.
He is ready to attack. As long as someone breaks in, he will jump out like a vigorous leopard and put the knife on the opponent's neck.
"Is this the house?" the person at the door asked.
"Yes! It's right here." Another person answered.
"You didn't run away from the window, did you?" the man continued to ask, which made the gang leader in the room feel horrified.
"Impossible! The window is also within my field of vision!" The second voice answered firmly again.
These two people found him! The bandit leader realized that the person standing outside the door actually knew that someone was in the room.
After realizing that something was wrong, he immediately found that his position was a bit awkward: it was obviously not appropriate to wait for someone to rush in, but it seemed not good for him to rush out.
So, just when the strong man who led the bandit was hesitating, the door was pushed open a gap from the outside.
"Okay!" He praised secretly in his heart, and the strong man in the room seemed to have found hope again: it seemed that the other party was inexperienced, so he wanted to rashly attack the house where he was.
But before he could be proud for a second, a cylindrical iron can rolled in. Soon, thick smoke began to pour out of the palm-sized cylinder.
The thick smoke was so choking that you couldn't even open your eyes in the smoke. Soon the damn smoke filled the entire room, making it extremely difficult for the strong man to breathe.
It was as if there were countless knives stabbing his lungs, and when he opened his mouth, it seemed as if countless amounts of gravel were poured into his throat.
The unfulfilled tears couldn't stop flowing, and he couldn't stop coughing every time he tried to breathe. He coughed so much that he couldn't even hold the knife in his hand.
It was pitch black in front of him, because he couldn't open his eyes to see what was around him. With his remaining sense, he recalled the appearance of the room, stretched out his hand to touch the wall, and looked for the door to go out.
All this was subconscious, even though he knew he shouldn't go out in such a mess. But except for his brain, every part of his body was desperately looking for a way to leave here.
Finally, he touched the door and rushed out desperately. The suffocating smoke seemed to have dissipated a lot, and his breathing began to become easier. He could finally raise his eyes and see everything around him clearly.
The strong man finally opened his eyes through a gap, and saw a boot rapidly enlarging outside the gap.
Only then did he realize that he had crawled out of the house and was still kneeling on the ground like a dog.
In the blink of an eye, his face was kissed by military leather boots. The power was so great that it turned him upside down.
Immediately afterwards, he was hit in the stomach. I don't know whether it was painful or because he was choking on the smoke. The villain burst into tears again.
He fiddled with his arms subconsciously, as if he wanted to fight back, but he was soon kicked to pieces with a powerful and heavy kick.
When he was beaten until he started vomiting blood, he could see clearly through his swollen eyes that there were at least five or six people beating him.
A group of soldiers surrounded him, beating and kicking him. When this group of people had fought enough, the evil-doing bandit leader lay on the ground with only the strength to breathe.
"Leave it to you..." The leader of the Marine Corps platoon leader made way for him and made a gesture of invitation: "Damn it, I've never seen smoke bombs... Silly!"
The surrounding marines also gave up their positions and looked coldly at the bandit leader who was beaten like a puddle of mud.
Behind them, gathered were the villagers who had been kneeling on the ground, and some women wearing raincoats.
Before they were like fish on the chopping board, like lambs to be slaughtered. They dare not resist, they let others slaughter them.
But now, they moved. At first, they spat, and then someone kicked them hard and kept kicking...
----------
I was supposed to make up for updates today, but my condition was not good, so I only completed two updates. Don't worry, there will be another update tonight, you can watch it tomorrow morning.
