A few minutes went by, and no gunfire came from the tunnel, but Jianxue turned around and ran back.
Back in front of everyone, Jianxue couldn’t say anything but "oh crap," his words were stammering.
"What the hell are you crapping about? What happened?"
The other impatient players were so eager they nearly gave Jianxue a few slaps in the face.
Jianxue calmed down a bit, gesticulating wildly as he described the scene he saw.
"Dead, so many dead, it’s horrendous, horrendous!"
"The scene was like a damn volcanic eruption, the center of the place all melted, seemed like there was a tank, only a few wheels left on the ground."
"At least twenty or more people were blown to bits, the rest are in chaos!"
What he said was so exaggerated that everyone listened in stunned disbelief.
Mann frowned, "Could the blast be that powerful?"
Not that he’s bragging, but it felt like it wasn’t much heavier than a grenade.
Lin Miao glanced at the players, then at Mann and Lucy, and after a brief thought, he said,
"Mann, take your people around to support Adcardo. Tell them to prepare for a pincer attack; I’ll lead others in to pursue."
The players had no reason to lie in this situation, so the Night Wanderer’s formation ahead should be crumbling.
Most importantly, if the scene Jianxue described was real, it’s best not to let others see it.
He and Mann’s squad had cooperated many times, their relations were somewhat cordial, and Lin Miao could kind of understand this team’s nature and tendencies.
Killing for them was merely a means of survival, not a hobby, and unless necessary, Mann and his team wouldn’t indulge in indiscriminate killing, even people like Rebecca tended to be soft-hearted.
If they saw the scene Jianxue described, no matter how good relations had been, there would still be a rift between them.
After all, even US soldiers who scorched through villages did not know how many developed mental illnesses after the Vietnam War, prompting anti-war protests.
Of course, some CS doesn’t count as humans.
Mann and his team didn’t say anything, turned around, and left with their people.
This job was even simpler than the last time they robbed the oil truck.
No need to risk firefights, just blow up a secret passage, toss a grenade, and get paid; only fools wouldn’t do it.
Lin Miao stood up, looking at the player’s eyes full of stars, he wanted to say,
Sharpen your swords, await today
The enemy’s formation is in disarray; follow me to kill!!
But such words can mess up the stage, so he said,
"Everyone get ready, greet our neighbors and send them to heaven."
"Tell the rest who calls the shots here from now on."
The giant jumped out first: "Of course, it’s we said the calculation!"
Potato covering his face: "Don’t claim you know me when you go out in the future."
The further they advanced inside, the higher the surrounding temperature, and the air was filled with an indescribable, burnt stench.
There were fumes of melted metal, black smoke from burning plastic, and the scorched smell of protein.
In a tunnel where air hardly circulates, various smells twisted together, affecting Lin Miao and the players’ normal breathing, forcing them to cover their noses as they proceeded.
Yet after entering the central warehouse, everyone realized how lacking Jianxue’s vocabulary truly was.
The surrounding temperature gradually decreased.
Raymond’s vision began to recover bit by bit from temporary blindness due to the intense light, his skin painfully burning, and as he climbed up from the ground, everything in sight made him feel like he fell again from the grill into an ice cellar.
In the middle of the warehouse, at what seemed to be the explosion’s center, molten metal and stone mixed together as they cooled, forming a lump of black-brown, wave-like composite; the tank’s turret was half melted, the people inside probably fused with the molten metal.
On the ground at the explosion center’s edge, vaguely visible were black human figures.
Those were the residual grease from bodies vaporized and evaporated.
And further out, those burnt corpses, their shells charred black, unmoving like statues, Raymond could even sense their terror from their final actions before death.
Further out were fully burnt corpses; it was clear they desperately rolled on the ground before dying.
One body after another, they seemed to want to escape this hell.
In reality, their organs had already been roasted to exhaustion and denaturation by the high temperature; they fell dead painfully after just a few steps.
The ground was still scattered with Night Wanderers writhing in agony; they weren’t dead but with flames raging on their bodies, death wasn’t far away.
In a daze, Raymond thought he was back over a decade ago, on that street bombarded by the new United States with napalm and white phosphorus bombs.
Everything around him was no different from the apocalyptic scene back then.
At the tunnel’s end, the players were like wolves in a flock of sheep, steel warriors with rocket launchers and machine guns rushed into the central warehouse, slaughtering Night Wanderers like chickens.
The stunned Night Wanderers began to put together a sparse counter-attack, setting up machine guns to point and shoot.
Raymond, moving his legs like filled with lead, headed towards the nearest machine gun bunker because he knew the more he tried to escape at this moment, the less likely he could.
But as soon as he entered the bunker, a rocket round hit it, sending shards flying everywhere, the blast wave carrying the half-body of the machine gunner smacked against Raymond, both hurled out together, lifeless.
The players entering the final confrontation had their adrenaline surging, all they saw were flames continuously spewing from gun barrels.