Orc Tyrant

With the advent of the night, the sky of the sinister wasteland began to become completely dark. It was a night without the moon and stars. There was a layer of dark clouds in the sky, and there was an aura of restlessness floating in the air. It seemed that something was moving.

The drunkard boss pressed the binoculars on his face. This tool made of shrimp is like a tiny toy in Oak’s big hand. The drunkard squeezed his scarred face into a ball and squinted his eyes. The other end of the telescope.

The thick fingers rested awkwardly on the smooth metal outer edge, and the roar in his throat emerged from the messy fangs. He twisted the lens again, which gave him a kind of throwing the telescope to the ground with iron. The urge to stom on the boots, but he still resisted his desire for destruction very hard.

Finally, the green-skinned boss found the focal length he wanted, and the black world around him was a kind of green shimmering space in his eyes. As he had always believed, the night belonged to Oak.

A humble voice interrupted the drunkard's thoughts, as if asking what he saw.

He didn't turn his head to see which guy was making such a problem. Instead, he grabbed the pistol on his waist and slammed it to the place where the sound was made. A painful groan immediately sounded.

The drunkard told them to shut up. This was a very strict order, but he had to do it.

He looked through the binoculars and scanned the solid defenses of the shrimps, barbed wire, straight barrel-like fortresses, and complicated tunnels. These are all things he needs to pay attention to. When his sight moves from the surface to the field guns on the top of the fortress , Snorted immediately, these are valuable big booms, the mechanics should be able to put them in handy.

When he saw the Xiami sentinel moving through the barbed wire and tunnel, his face became distorted, showing a cruel smile.

The drunkard carefully observed their walking routes, where they touched and where they stopped. When he needs them, these memories will turn into simple lines and graphics. It is this talent that makes him a member of the legion. The best scout leader.

With a satisfying grunt, the drunkard put down the binoculars and handed it into the hands of a clever butt.

After receiving the binoculars, the fart spirit immediately put it into his carry-on backpack. The drunkard glanced at the fart spirit in a little surprise. Although it was shaking, the fart spirit straightened up and saluted him.

Their corps looks like this from top to bottom, and it's not uncommon for other corps to find fault for this matter.

Suddenly, the drunkard caught the fart spirit and threw its polished bone helmet into the dust. The fart spirit hurriedly chased the helmet, which caused a rude laughter from the surrounding Okers.

"All right!"

The drunkard glanced at them, then fixed his gaze on the next kid. This guy named Bruchette was stupid enough to complete his plan well.

"Remember! Take a few guys and go over there! Light out the bullets in the gun!"

Boss Oak grabbed the boy's coat and dragged him in front of him so that he could speak the commands in the lowest possible voice.

Bruchette turned to leave the drunkard. It called a few of his companions, and they disappeared in the direction the drunkard pointed to before the boss had given the details.

The drunkard watched them disappear in the shadows with a cunning light flashing in his eyes. He touched his belt and pulled out a ragged piece of leather from underneath. He tore the tortured object with his clumsy hands. Shaped it into an approximate shape, and then put it on the bald head.

It is so small that it can only cover a small piece on the top of his head. This hat is not suitable for him, but it represents a different meaning.

This was obtained from the corpse of a shrimp boss when the drunkard attacked this place last time. The drunkard in a coat tried to stop them from escaping by shooting his little brother, and then he was killed by the drunkard. 'S coat has also become the tattered coat worn by the rotten drunkard now.

He glanced at the boys behind him, then laughed, apparently they had understood what he meant.

The drunkard turned around, his coat full of holes hunting in the night breeze of the wasteland, he did not look back at his little brothers this time, because he knew that they were the best scouts in the legion and the best in the kingdom. A group of disciplined fighters, even if he ordered them to follow him and jump into Sgug's mouth, they would follow.

In the darkness, dozens of green skins acted like wind, vigorous and silent.

When they reached the barbed wire fence, they had a good time. The drunkard put the chips on his vision, and their boots were dyed red. Even the lowest-level fart knows that red things are better than others. The color is fast.

The big green skin squatted beside the barbed iron net, his eyes were observing the surrounding terrain, he could only see the flickering lights in the fortress vaguely, or the mouth of a soldier who was just smoking in the cold night to keep out the cold Faint light.

The drunkard stared at the darkness further away, wondering how far Bruchette and his friends had gone. They should have just entered the barbed wire area and watched the Xiami patrol carefully avoid the edge of the defense. The drunkard can be sure that something annoying is waiting for Bruchette there.

Boom~~~!

After a while, the deafening sound of explosives rang out in the dark, the drunks smiled, and Bruchette and the others encountered some mines.

Suddenly, the line of defense in front of Greenskin began to move, and the soldiers ran along the edge of the tunnel to the nearest location to the minefield.

The darkness disappeared as the heavy searchlights ignited. The neat platoons of guns gradually roared, and the light artillery also made a dull roar that shook the ground, and more landmines were there when Bruchette tried to retreat Sounds around.

"Quick! Don't dare!"

The drunkard swung his machete, pointed in the direction of the trench, snarled at his soldiers, incited the crazy boys, and turned their desire for battle into bloodthirsty anger. He almost forgot to remind his soldiers. We, the strategy behind their goals.

They didn't just come here to chop dried shrimps. The king needed information about the fulcrum of dried shrimp's defense, and the investigators would bring this information back to him.

waaaaaaaaagh! !

Like violent beasts, these boys passed the drunkard and rushed to the Xiami line. The drunkard saw the nearest bunker turn their weapons in the direction of the charging scout boy.

Da Da Da Da~!

The first round of the revolver guns flew in short shots, because they were aimed at the edge of the barbed wire before, and it takes time to correct the aim.

When the machine gun finally adjusted its direction, the drunkard jumped into the trench.

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