Chapter 769: Chapter 141: Stirring Up Hate
At this moment, the situation on the battlefield was changing rapidly, with the pace largely under the control of the Golden Sparrow Mercenary Group.
At times, the highland swordsmen would collectively charge, engaging in a sticky fight with the undead; at other times, they swiftly retreated, only for the reloaded lobster riflemen to stand up and unleash a volley at the undead.
Some research-oriented players say this type of rifle that needs reloading and cocking after every shot is actually driven by “Magnetic Storm Gauss Rifle” with electromagnetic coils. Aske was not a military science fiction enthusiast and didn’t know much about this.
However, he had of course tried out this gun in the game. Slow firing rate, high damage, excellent armor penetration and piercing ability, even a titan would be seriously injured by a single shot.
Just because of this, if he rashly joined the battlefield, he might end up entangled by the indiscriminate highland swordsmen and then focused fired by a volley from the lobster riflemen… After all, both the highland swordsmen and the lobster riflemen had a strong, er, distinctive look, which he couldn’t easily blend into.
Chances were he would be taken for an undead in disguise.
Therefore, out of caution for his own safety, Aske did not rush into the battlefield but instead found a flat spot on a nearby hilltop, took out a picnic cloth, and spread it on the ground.
Then he sat down and took out… a barbecue grill and ice-cold beer.
The barbecue, which Nora had skewered and brushed with sauce, began to sizzle after a moment on the grill, with golden fat dripping onto the charcoal, making a sizzling sound and white smoke.
The beer was all chilled, and drinking ice-cold beer was quite fitting for the weather. After moving the grill slightly, Aske continued to rotate the barbecue while watching the battlefield below.
He just caught sight of a tall highland swordsman who had decapitated a ghoul with a single stroke, then roared loudly with a face smeared with warpaint.
“Good!” Aske nodded, the decapitation just now was indeed very beautiful—especially considering the awkward position the ghoul ended up in on the ground, it was quite difficult to accurately sever the neck.
He bit into a beef kebab, feeling the savory fat explode with flavor in his mouth, every taste bud on his tongue rejoicing.
Eating and drinking leisurely , time gradually reached noon, and the war below was still going on.
Of course, it could not end, because the undead had no concept of ceasefire.
Unless the undead voluntarily retreated, the Golden Sparrow side obviously couldn’t either. Otherwise, if they withdrew to the fortress, and the undead pursued closely, the people inside the fortress would definitely not dare to open the gates for the mercenaries.
Everyone had been fighting from morning till now, not a drop of water consumed, already suffering from hunger and thirst, with throats feeling as if they were on fire. However, since the undead showed no signs of retreating, everyone had to keep cursing and pushing the frontline forward, attempting to crush the will of the undead army’s commanders.
Though it was commonly known that ordinary undead soldiers were worth nothing in the eyes of the commanders.
McGree was the most valorous warrior among the highland swordsmen, decorated with the most medals of honor on his kilt. Each medal represented survival from a gruesome battle.
Yet even he was nearly at his breaking point after several hours of intensive fighting, feeling as if the stomach acid would burn a hole through his belly. Damn undead.
“Mike!” Taking advantage of the moment when the lobster riflemen raised their barrels again, the highland swordsmen quickly retreated to clear the firing line, when suddenly a comrade beside him shouted out in surprise. Thɪs chapter is updated by 𝔫𝔬𝔳𝔢𝔩·𝕗𝕚𝕣𝕖·𝘯𝘦𝘵
“Ah?” McGree immediately looked around to see if some invisible undead banshee was launching a sneak attack.
“Look over at that hillside!” the comrade said, “Is there someone there?”
“Someone?” McGree looked in the direction he was pointing.
His eyesight was excellent, and indeed, he saw a man standing on the hillside, holding in his hand…
A skewer of meat? Still eating?
Fuck! McGree cursed furiously. Is this guy here for a spring outing?
We’re down here fighting for our lives, and you run up the mountain to leisurely enjoy barbecue, watching us sweat and bleed?!
As the message spread among the retreating Highland Swordsmen, Aske suddenly had a realization and silently took a sip of ice-cold beer.
Hmm, this method really works.
Another volley was over, and the Lobster Gunmen began to reload while the Highland Swordsmen, yelling furiously, charged back into battle and clashed with the Undead Spirits. At the same time, they started cursing:
“Take that, you barbecue eater!”
“I’m gonna smash you into pulp!”
This offensive surge was so swift and fierce that it almost overpowered the Undead’s front, breaking through in several places.
From the rear came the rhythmic beat of drums, signaling the Highland Swordsmen to retreat as the Lobster Gunmen prepared for another volley.
So, taking a few more stabs at the surrounding bodies, they turned and ran again, giving the middle finger to the hill.
The Lobster Gunmen, aiming down their sights, naturally noticed the Highland Swordsmen’s uniform gesture and glanced toward the hill too.
Barbecue, beer… the Lobster Gunmen couldn’t help but curse inwardly too.
Standing here for a long time maintaining formation, lifting rifles, and enduring the massive recoil, was also a huge physical strain on the Lobster Gunmen and was in no way inferior to the relentless charges of the Highland Swordsmen—at least their upper bodies might be hot, but their legs would remain cool.
The Lobster Gunmen’s faces were already drenched with sweat, as if they had just been fished out of water. Not only enduring the scorching heat and exhaustion, but also an unbearable thirst.
And to think, not far from here, someone was indulging in skewers and beer… Suddenly, someone felt an urge to shoot him.
After the volley, the Highland Swordsmen returned to the field and next to the Lobster Gunmen’s formation, the lookout, also drenched in sweat, was staring at Aske on the opposite hillside, grinding his teeth in anger.
“Bring me my rifle!” he bellowed, turning his head.
The Military Servant hastily brought over his rifle.
Of course, the lookout was also armed, but he didn’t usually shoot. Their job was to constantly monitor battlefield changes and timely inform the Commander of enemy movements to adjust the formation.
Yet, the lookout could no longer stand it. The enemy was feasting on the other side, indifferent to the Highland Swordsmen’s middle fingers—a clear mockery of the Golden Bird Mercenary Group.
Personal humiliation was one thing, but the disrespect to the team was far worse. No, he had to kill him!
Taking the rifle, he loaded it, pressed the stock against his shoulder, brought his eye to the high-power scope, and locked onto the young man’s face on the opposite slope. He could even see the grease on the corner of the man’s mouth, and it made his stomach twist.
“Good!” A few voices erupted from the Lobster Gunmen’s formation, and everyone’s hearts filled with the pleasure of vengeance.
Although they couldn’t leave their posts to shoot the man themselves due to the need to maintain the formation and battlefield control, seeing the lookout exact revenge for them was quite satisfying all the same.
Next, the Gunmen watched as the man on the opposite hillside emerged from the dust, pushing the grill out with him to a better vantage point, to continue eating and drinking.