novelODS Chapter 27 This is not defense, this is hunting
Chapter 27 This is not defense, this is hunting
The shipwreck area, shrouded in acidic mist, was eerily quiet at this moment.
Suddenly, several people in the wooden cabin where the players were resting sat up straight one after another.
Amidst shouts of "Holy crap!", "Why did it open so early?", and "My food delivery hasn't arrived yet!", the players who had logged off swarmed out like a disturbed hornet's nest.
"Check the group notification! Bolton's heavily armed law enforcement team is here!"
"Holy crap, I only have an iron sword and leather armor, how am I supposed to fight? Am I just going to be cannon fodder?"
Panic spread through the crowd. Although these players were virtually immortal, the extremely high death penalty at this stage made them feel uneasy as they watched the torchlight gradually approaching from beyond the mist.
After all, they were a well-armed, regular army from another world.
"Quiet."
A calm voice came from the steps of the dilapidated wooden house.
Lynn slowly walked down the steps, carrying a glass of rum.
He made no unnecessary movements; simply standing at the bottom of the steps, his imposing presence, akin to that of a chess player, instantly silenced the noisy scene.
"The sentry waving the red cloth means Bolton's team has just set off from the upper city." Lynn raised his hand and pointed to the muddy tidal flats piled with industrial waste around the camp. "It would take heavy armored units at least an hour to get to this muddy ground. But you, with your immortality, home-field advantage, and a full sixty minutes to set up your formation."
He surveyed the room, his eyes devoid of fear, displaying only utmost rationality: "Right now, it is not you who should be afraid, but them."
Lynn casually plucked a dry branch and drew a simple sketch of the battle position on the muddy ground beneath his feet.
"This is not a defensive battle, this is a hunt."
"Big Goose, take some men to the alchemy waste pool and get something dangerous! I need the kind of corrosive liquid that can burn through leather armor instantly. Also, use your imagination and make a lot of traps."
"Hey, see that crane? Don't unload it yet. Take some men to tilt that several-ton scrap metal pendulum a bit, and lock it with the clips. That's their final gift."
"Agents, roast whole lamb, you go to the outpost. I need a perfect trap to lure the enemy."
"Little Snail, Little Rain, George, once the traps are exhausted, it's your turn to harvest the spoils."
Lynn gathered up the withered branches and waved his hand dismissively: "Start the timer. Get moving, don't keep those guys waiting too long."
Dozens of laborers huddled in the shadows of their shack, staring at the group of outsiders as if they were madmen. In their minds, Lord Bolton's enforcement team was synonymous with death.
They thought the group would panic and run for their lives, but what happened?
Instead of running away, these lunatics laughed wildly as if they were on stimulants.
Some people were sharpening rusty daggers, some were carrying stinking black mud, and some almost got into a fight over a task of smearing lard on someone.
"By the God of the Sea..." the old laborer trembled, "What kind of monsters has Lord Bolton provoked?"
An hour and a half later.
Enforcement team leader Barrow, wearing heavy military boots, stepped into the muddy wreckage area with utter disgust.
Behind him were thirty fully armed thugs, their crossbows cocked, their leather armor gleaming coldly in the torchlight.
"This stench should sink those lowly people and their rotten ship to the bottom of the sea," Barrow sneered at his men. "Remember, hurry up. That pretty boy in charge should be alive; the rest, kill them all."
"yes!"
The moment they entered the thick fog at the edge of the camp, something unexpected happened.
The two crossbowmen at the front suddenly felt their feet sink into the mud. What appeared to be flat mud was actually covered with a layer of broken white seashells and lard.
"Ah!" With screams, the two burly men slipped and fell like penguins on ice, their faces slamming heavily onto the sharp seashells. The sound of their front teeth shattering could be heard clearly from several meters away.
"Who is it? Show yourself!" Barrow roared.
"You can't hit me, you can't hit me, your mom has white hair on her butt!"
In the thick fog, a player wearing only white shorts was sticking out his butt and dancing an extremely absurd hip-twisting dance.
The only thing that can provoke hatred in this way is Leziren's whole roasted lamb.
He slapped his inner thigh while making sarcastic remarks in a tone that could raise blood pressure.
"Grab him! Tear him to pieces!" Enforcement team leader Barrow completely lost his mind and led his men into the narrow, ruined passage.
But what awaits them is extreme spiritual pollution.
A thin hemp rope was cut.
A dozen or so broken iron barrels filled with fermented kelp residue, putrid black mud, and some unidentifiable excrement fell from the sky.
"Ugh...yue..."
These traps weren't fatal, but they were extremely humiliating. A stench instantly filled the air, soaking the previously orderly enforcement team to the bone; some even squatted on the ground and dry heaved.
Just then, a shadow silently slipped out from a dead corner of the ruins.
Without any regard for morality, he flicked his left hand and accurately threw a handful of powder mixed with quicklime and wood ash into the eyes of the two crossbowmen.
"Damn it! My eyes!"
Taking advantage of the screams, the agent's rusted dagger in his right hand transformed into a venomous snake. He didn't even get up, but rolled along the ground, specifically targeting the Achilles tendons, the backs of the knees, and the lower body not covered by armor, stabbing fiercely.
One cut, two cuts. The movements were swift and decisive, without any hesitation.
As the captain's sword slashed at him, the agent had already rolled to the side and disappeared back into the thick fog that blocked his view.
Only a few wounded men remained, clutching their legs and screaming in agony, rolling desperately on the muddy ground.
"Form ranks! Fire arrows! Shoot into the fog!" the captain roared in exasperation.
The remaining twenty or so law enforcement thugs huddled together, their crossbows aimed at the surrounding darkness.
Just then, a huge, thick iron door panel, salvaged from a shipwreck, crashed into the middle of the road with a heavy roar.
Several crossbowmen from the enforcement team instinctively raised their hands and fired.
However, the three armor-piercing crossbow bolts struck the iron plate, leaving only shallow white marks.
The little snail's massive, mountain-like figure appeared behind the metal plate. He braced his hands against the straps and grumbled in a deep voice, "Is this all Bolton has raised—a bunch of spineless wimps? Have they not eaten?! They're not even as strong as a dog!"
"Kill him!"
Barrow led his men in a frenzied assault on this "mobile fortress." Little Snail displayed exceptional main tank skills, fighting and retreating while using the terrain to lure the enemy step by step into the center of the camp.
There stands a steel crane that is more than ten meters high.
That was the execution zone designated by Lynn.
As Barrow led the remaining dozen or so men onto the flat ground beneath the crane, countless torches suddenly lit up all around them.
Lynn stood on the veranda of the dilapidated wooden house not far away, his back to the firelight, his face hidden in the shadows, only his eyes shining frighteningly bright.
Lynn whistled.
The man hiding on the crossbeam high above the crane, who was like an iron pot stewing ne, understood perfectly and revealed a wicked smile.
This game is really exciting! He kicked over three large, sealed barrels hanging in mid-air, and the steaming liquid poured down on him like a waterfall.
"Ahhhhh!"
A blood-curdling scream instantly ripped through the night sky. The thugs, who had initially thought their leather armor would provide protection, discovered that once the liquid touched their skin, it seeped in like molten iron.
This is a high concentration of strong alkali.
The corrosive effect of strong alkali on proteins is instantaneous and irreversible. The enforcement captain watched as his subordinate's face melted like a candle, revealing bare bones.
The leather armor also became brittle and cracked due to the chemical reaction, emitting a pungent, putrid smell.
Looking at the battle situation before him, Lynn thought that the ambush had been successfully completed, but he wondered what Bolton would do next.
In the center of the battlefield, the enforcement team leader, Barrow, lay curled up on the ground, one of his eyes corroded and blinded, rolling around on the ground.
"It's not over yet."
"Carry the bucket and see the guests off."
"Received, received."
The bucket carrier, who had been waiting behind the tower crane, let out an excited wolf howl. His axe slashed sharply through the pre-set traction clip.
The locked gears unlocked instantly.
In mid-air, the gravity pendulum, made up of several tons of scrap metal and warship wreckage, drew a terrifying arc under the force of gravity, and crashed into the center of the crowd with a piercing whistle!
The entire Pearl Harbor seemed to be shaken by an earthquake, with the ground trembling and dust billowing everywhere.
That was pure, violent physical crushing.
As the smoke cleared, the once bustling camp fell into a deathly silence.
The once invincible Bolton law enforcement team is now nothing but a pool of blood and flesh, and a few pieces of limb stuck in the gaps of scrap metal. Only five or six lucky thugs survived because they were standing on the edge, but they were also bleeding from all seven orifices from the shock.
They slumped to the ground, their eyes filled with terror, their hands holding crossbows, aiming wildly and trying to fire at any suspected target.
Just as the trigger was about to be pulled, a gray shadow flashed through the smoke. With the boost from its strength and agility points, it moved so fast that it was imperceptible to the naked eye.
George leaped up precisely and bit down hard on the wrist of the person holding the crossbow.
"Get the hell out of here, you beast!" The guard from the law enforcement team who was being bitten reached back to draw his knife, but a crisp sound came from the air.
The light rain started to move.
He lowered his shoulders and elbows, and instead of slashing with his iron sword, he adopted an extremely elegant thrusting posture.
As a sports enthusiast in real life, his physical condition has not yet been ravaged by office work. And with a near 100% synchronization rate, even with all his intelligence points maxed out, he is still a top-tier killing machine for those who haven't changed jobs.
A guard swung his sword, but in Xiaoyu's eyes, his movements were as slow as an old woman's.
With a slight sidestep, Xiaoyu's sword tip slid along the side of the opponent's blade, and to the guard's horrified gaze, the iron sword precisely pierced his throat through the gap in his helmet.
The sword was drawn, leaving a trail of blood. There was no flashy battle aura, only deathly precision.
Lynn slowly emerged from the shadows, looking down as he searched.
The enforcement team leader who had been leading the team earlier was nowhere to be seen. It seems he's mingled with his men; they're like a loving family.
"Pick one you like and bring him over for questioning." Lynn turned and waved his hand. "The rest are up to you."