Orc Tyrant

Shuike stepped out of the boat and stood on the dock, holding his old gun.

He used his callused right index finger and index finger to gently pull the bolt open, and then inserted a bullet. Shuike didn't even look at the weapon in his hand in the process.

He was straight ahead and looked at the people in the distance along the pier with a stern expression, which made his wrinkles deeper, and he frowned as if squinting his eyes in the scorching sunlight.

He did not hesitate, one step, two steps, three steps...

He started to trot, then strode up, and moved up along the pier, holding the gun to his shoulder, sticking to his cheek, and aiming as he ran.

The first shot.

A laughing traitor, the bullet penetrated into the spine between the shoulder blades. This guy was about to pierce the little Kafko's neck with a stab, only to fall down like an electric shock.

The second and third shots.

A traitor who pressed Kafka to the ground, with two bullets hitting the face.

Fourth shot.

A guy who started to turn around and wanted to escape, the bullet that penetrated his jaw instantly knocked him down in the water.

Fifth, sixth and seventh shots.

Two guys with guns leaning against one another, three bullets pierced them together.

The remaining two men began to fight back in the direction of the dock.

Eighth shot.

One of the helmeted rebels was shot in the shoulder, but only fell to the ground.

The ninth shot.

Hit him in the chest and kill him.

Tenth shot.

The last one, headshot.

The eleventh shot.

He failed to fire, the bullet was empty, and he fired a lot of shots today.

Shuike drew the bayonet from his waist and continued to run forward. The backpack on his shoulder fell to the ground with a bang.

He came in front of them, he rushed between them, and was about to start a close fight.

Shuike waved his weapon and smashed the **** on a face.

They are all practical skills, just like what they learned in that muddy field many years ago. Is that outside of... Orqifan Town? Or the wilderness of Draco? He doesn't remember much, he fought too many battles.

Oh, how nice it is to have a grenade!

I thought so in my heart, but the smoothly polished bayonet at the moment also made do with it, and it banged on a forehead.

The next second, a side kick smashed someone’s ribs, and Shuike’s **** hit another face. He blocked a knife with a cross rifle and opened the enemy’s weapon like a short stick. .

He stabs hard and penetrates his breastbone at close range, splashing blood from the wound.

The bullets in the air swept past him, but he was indifferent, and the four rebels were hurriedly climbing over the railings at the end of the pier to join the battle, and pounced on him.

Shuike turned around, picked up the other person's gun, shot the bullet in the barrel, and knocked over one of them first.

The other three began to panic, then turned around and ran away.

Suddenly, behind him came the sound of broken bones and screams.

Shuike suddenly turned around. A rebel he hadn't noticed before was lying in a pool of blood that was spreading. Ford knocked him down with a nailed wooden stick.

"Thank you."

"He is going to hit you, Uncle Shuai Ke."

At this time, Shuike suddenly expected him to teach this young man how to fire.

At this time...

How many times had he prayed that he would never experience this kind of time again.

But sadly, the war never ends.

There will always be another battle to be fought, and Shuike knows it very well, he knows it better than anyone.

Maybe this time is the final battle, maybe this will be the last battle, but maybe not.

Little Kafka tried to stand up. He was hit hard, Shuike looked around for Renn, and he saw that young man was dragged into the shadow by something.

"It caught him, it caught him!"

Little Kafka kept muttering the same sentence repeatedly.

"nothing."

Shuike said so, but instead of looking at Kafka, he kept his gaze in the direction where Rennes disappeared.

"Get the water. Go to the boat. We're leaving."

That young man may be dead, or maybe not yet, but now the gun may not be useful anymore. Shuike is a bit impressed by the thing that grabbed him. .

He didn't know what Ren or Kafka saw, maybe it was some kind of monster from imagination.

But Shuike had seen its essence, the filthy substance, fused into a human-shaped body, under the control of those cyan crystals.

It is real, enough to take life, but it is also not real. It is just an aggregate of something, attached to the dead flesh and blood, just like those walking corpses covered with crystals, but in a more terrifying form.

Shuike wants to call him a demon, but this is a less specific word.

Shuike glanced at the corpses that died under his hands, the betrayers in Tsing Yi. They believed that they had found the unbearable truth, enough to gather into a religious group, a kind of faith, enough to make them lose their minds. Like those stupid blood worshipers.

Unnatural filth is harmful and unhelpful. Once it is slightly contaminated, it will linger and it is difficult to eradicate it.

Are these rebel cyan daggers, ritual daggers, or sacrificial daggers?

He picked up the nearest one and embedded the handle of the knife in the muzzle. This improvised, inserted bayonet was very useful in an emergency. His previous one was already crooked to use.

Shuike installed the new bayonet and stepped into the alley where Rennes disappeared.

There, a creature that rickets like a mole, with disgusting light cyan skin, and a large number of crystals like spines behind it, it is lying on Renn's body.

Shuike walked over cautiously, and then slammed the bayonet into the opponent's body.

Green light was splashing, light smoke filled, with the smell of rotten flesh and rotten eggs.

The thing screamed like a woman. It turned around, looked at Shuike helplessly with its twisted face like a honeycomb, and then died.

The material that made it collapsed into a puddle of transparent slime and spilled on Renn.

Shuike stepped forward to check and found that the young man had just passed out without any obvious injuries on his body.

Why didn't that thing hurt him? Or a deeper conspiracy?

Shuike is not sure, but he has more important things right now.

He turned his head and looked at the girl, Annie, who was standing behind him, staring at Renn.

"Help me lift him up."

She didn't speak, but still held Ren's feet, Kirbis, who was full of fear in her eyes, also walked over and helped her lift the young man.

Shuike pulled the cyan short blade from the muzzle and threw it into the dirty water.

He stroked the holy emblem hanging on his neck, and muttered softly thanking the Father for his salvation. Adrenaline flooded his old arms and legs. He hated the excitement and the burning sensation. He thought he had passed that age long ago.

He turned and walked back to the boat, the gunshots would definitely attract attention, but he guessed they still had time to leave here and drive away from the city.

He saw the guy who had been knocked down by Grafford.

A captain, an officer, the leader of this group.

He was lying prone on the ground, a puddle of blood leaked from the wound on his head, and there was a short knife and a more exquisite ritual dagger beside him.

The officer’s dagger is unusual, it seems to be used to identify his identity and status. It is more luxurious than the crude ritual tools carried by others. If this is essentially twisted and evil in nature, it can be called something. Luxurious words.

This may not be exactly what Shuike needs, but he hasn't seen a better one so far, and it would be foolish to just leave it like this.

He picked it up, wrapped it in cloth, and put it in his pocket.

Three minutes later, the boat began to move with the efforts of Ford and Kerbis, and they drove upstream and left the dock.

"what!"

Creed Foster woke up suddenly, he sat up and lifted his face from the icy damp pier floor.

The pouring rain was washing the dirty sky, there was blood everywhere, and his whole body was blood. He touched his head and found that a skull was painful and there was some movement.

He was uncomfortable and terrified.

He realized that he had lost something, something special and precious, something handed to him by Liming's family, his future is maintained here, and with this thing he can gain the power and power he dreams of. .

Creed Foster raised his head angrily to look for the thief, he wanted to resist.

But he found nothing.