EBE Chapter 48 A Deadly Situation?
Chapter 48 A Deadly Situation?
In the boiling quicklime swamp, the screams gradually faded.
Above the alley, dozens of indigenous laborers responsible for operating the physical traps were gripping the rusty steel cables tightly in their hands.
Through the rising white mist and black smoke, they looked down at the hellish mud pit below, their legs trembling and their faces deathly pale.
These laborers, who live at the very bottom of society year after year, being exploited and bullied, have never seen anything more bloody than gang fights in the streets.
And now, a fully armed, legendary, and seemingly invincible regular mercenary group is being stewed into a pot of scrap metal right under their noses in a comical yet tragic way.
Under the combined impact of visual shock and psychological trauma, a young laborer standing in the front row felt his legs go weak.
His sweaty palms suddenly slipped.
"Hey! Hold on! Don't let go!" Old John, who was acting as the foreman, shouted in alarm.
But it was too late.
The winch, now out of control, emitted a screeching sound of gears grinding together, and the rusty steel cable snapped rapidly from the friction.
With a loud bang.
A huge, abandoned shipping container hanging above the alleyway entrance crashed down.
This was originally intended by the agents as a last resort, a physical safety measure to trap and eliminate the enemy, but it was prematurely destroyed due to a worker's startled hand trembling.
The massive steel box slammed heavily onto the muddy ground, splashing mud everywhere.
It didn't hit any mercenaries, but its massive size blocked the entrance to the container aisle perfectly.
It completely blocked the only way out for this quicklime swamp.
The few mercenary survivors who were struggling on the edge of the mud pit and trying to climb ashore saw the steel wall that had fallen from the sky in front of them, and the last glimmer of hope for survival in their eyes was completely extinguished.
Despair, suffocating despair, enveloped the entire outskirts of Pearl Harbor.
This defensive battle, which should have been a clash of muskets and steel, was devoid of swords and epic charges and duels. Instead, it featured only ice skating, gasoline, boiling water, and an iron pot that fell from the sky.
The renowned Blood Axe mercenary group on Treasure Island was annihilated in a manner that was almost humiliating.
Half an hour later, the boiling of the mud finally stopped, the surface temperature dropped slightly, and only a pungent smell remained in the air.
The atmosphere on the battlefield took an unexpected turn at this moment.
One second it was a terrifying hell on earth, the next second, a group of players wearing only shorts rushed into the swamp like cyber locusts attracted by the scent.
"Quick, quick! Peel it off while it's still hot! The clasps on this armor have been warped by the high temperature, so it's easiest to pry it open now!"
With the bent steel pipe in hand, Infinite Resurrection charged ahead, expertly inserting it into the gaps in the armor. "Give me a hand! Turn this corpse over; it's pressing down on my spoils!"
"Get out of my way! That breastplate of the guild leader's is mine!" Birdsong and Fragrance kicked aside a new player next to them, then clung tightly to the Blood Axe guild leader's somewhat deformed armor. "I was standing in the front row when he pointed a gun at my head! I suffered enormous psychological trauma, and this is what you call compensation for emotional distress!"
"You're talking nonsense! It was you who swore the most that made him charge!"
"Just tell me whether we won or lost this battle!"
In the mud pit, the players completely ignored the horrific state of the corpses, even complaining that the corpses were too heavy and hindered their opening of blind boxes.
Before the battle, Little Snail received instructions from Lynn to collect the equipment and put it under his management.
He stood at the edge of the mud puddle, holding a small notebook, shouting at the top of his lungs as if he were directing the operation:
"Don't fight over it, collect everything and hand it over to the GM. Those responsible for moving it will get credit points; if it's damaged, they'll all be working for nothing!"
"Be gentle! Don't smash it with the crowbar! If you dent those steel parts, they'll be worthless!"
"Muskets! Pick up the muskets that haven't fallen into the mud! Clean the barrels and treat the gunpowder inside to prevent moisture! These things can still be used!"
"Hey Goose! Stop studying the acidity and alkalinity of lime and come help me take these helmets off!"
This group of utterly shameless fourth disasters has turned a horrific post-war corpse-collecting scene into a Double Eleven shopping extravaganza.
In stark contrast to the chaos below, Lynn stood quietly on the hillside in the distance, taking in the absurd scene.
Watching the players frantically looting equipment, his lips and eyelids twitched involuntarily.
Then, he raised his hand and rubbed his slightly throbbing temples. The tension that had been building all night finally eased completely at that moment.
Won.
Although the process was so convoluted that even he, the GM, couldn't understand it, the result was a perfect zero-loss victory.
I blame myself for being overconfident; I didn't have a Plan B besides the original plan. However, the players' on-the-spot performance was truly outstanding, perfectly achieving the expected results, although the process was a bit too hilarious.
Bolton's expensively hired ace was torn to shreds by this group of mentally ill people who had no sense of martial ethics.
Lynn was certain that Bolton had no other decent cards to play. The next step was to claim the spoils, rightfully take control of Pearl Harbor's trade routes, and usher in a new era of massive infrastructure development.
He turned and walked alone toward the underground command center next to the dock.
A sea breeze blew by, and Lynn walked alone toward the empty and quiet breakwater of the new pier.
He stood on the edge of the breakwater, with his back to the boundless sea, watching the rising sun in the distance, and began to plan the site selection for the future commercial district.
On the distant tower.
The night owl, who temporarily acted as a lookout and bodyguard, also witnessed this incredible ambush.
He glanced at the players who had returned with their spoils, then at Lynn standing alone on the beach in the wind, and finally loosened his grip on the dart.
"It's finally over..." Night Owl breathed a sigh of relief.
However, this is not a simple game after all; it will always reveal its cruelest fangs when you are most relaxed.
The waves crashed against the rocks again.
But beneath this ordinary sound of water, the calm, deep sea beneath Lynn's feet suddenly and silently cracked open without warning!
Without making a splash, three twisted figures burst out of the water like arrows released from a bow.
Bolton, as the old local strongman of Pearl Harbor, has never really relied on the Blood Axe mercenary group, but rather on this group of assassins who can hold their breath underwater for hours!
Blood Axe is part of the offensive plan, but also an expensive decoy!
The three assassins had a clear division of labor. Two of them used the momentum in mid-air to pounce on Night Cat on the tower like two ghostly afterimages, completely blocking all of his rescue routes.
The person in the very center, holding the short knife, had already slid along the ground behind Lynn.
A green, poisonous light gleamed from the edge of his blade.
"Lynn, watch out!!!"
The night owl's eyes widened in horror, and it let out a desperate howl.
But the sea breeze swallowed his voice; the distance was too close, and the attack was too swift.
A chilling killing intent pressed against Lynn's skin. The poison-laden blade was less than an inch from Lynn's unsuspecting nape!
At this critical moment of life and death, a blinding scarlet light suddenly flashed in Lynn's mind.
[System Alert: Deadly Threat Detected!]