CHAPTER 53: CHAPTER 53: ASKING THE MASTER INTO THE URN_1

"I couldn’t hear clearly from so far away, and I didn’t dare to get any closer."

"You really are a fucking waste of space!" Erge cursed indignantly upon hearing this.

Laosan also looked on disdainfully. It was clear Dismas was a coward. His survival had hinged solely on abandoning his comrades and fleeing the battle.

Dismas merely grinned awkwardly and lowered his head to avoid their gazes.

Just then, the elites finally made a discovery.

"Sir! There’s a situation over here."

The group rushed over and found limbs gnawed clean to the bone.

The scattered remains were riddled with bite marks. The femur bones had even been used as chew toys by some wolf, the marks clearly visible.

"These are wolf bite marks."

This discovery further solidified their belief: only the Barbarians in this territory could command packs of wolves.

"I saw those people heading that way. This direction definitely isn’t the way back."

Dismas continued to lead them deeper, guiding the group to several camps that had been attacked previously.

Everyone in them was dead, leaving behind only bloodstains but no corpses.

It would have been one thing if only one or two camps had been attacked. However, the fact that several bandit groups had been silently slaughtered in one night immediately put them on high alert.

Could they defend their own camp if such an attack targeted them?

At the same time, they all reached a consensus: with so many bodies missing, those Barbarians must be hiding some treasure.

And Dismas had earned the recognition of their third-in-command, Laosan.

"Well done," Laosan said. "Your information is very valuable. I will commend you to the captain when we return."

"Thank you, bosses," Dismas replied, his face a mask of sycophancy. The wandering robber was all too skilled at such expressions.

After gaining approval, Dismas was no longer under the watchful eyes of the two men. His gaze continuously scanned the surroundings.

This was one of the camps they had attacked the night before. Such small gangs lacked the strength to occupy buildings, so they had simply cleared a spot in the wilderness, erecting a few ragged, tarp-covered tents, along with a central campfire and pots.

Clearing the surroundings was meant to prevent wild beasts from attacking at night, but it couldn’t stop humans. The open environment and the dense forest nearby formed two sharply contrasting scenes.

This meant all the bandits were now completely exposed.

Soon, Dismas noticed something. He began to shift his feet, slowly retreating behind the others.

"Let’s go. Back to camp."

The two leaders gathered their scattered men. After all, it was broad daylight, and this was their sphere of influence, so the group was actually quite relaxed.

Just then, without warning, explosive gunshots rang out from the dense forest. Dismas immediately threw himself to the ground and shouted.

"AH! I’ve been shot!"

The elites were different. A second after the gunfire, the team reacted instantly, their leaders shouting,

"Scatter! Find cover!"

Several elites dispersed, trying to find the nearest tree trunk for cover while returning fire, but the enemy’s fire was fiercer, shots ringing out like machine-gun fire.

Out of the ten elites, five were hit.

Whether hit in the torso or limbs, they were largely incapacitated, writhing and wailing on the ground.

One unlucky soul was shot in the head, his life claimed instantly.

After all, they were mere mortals; no matter how elite, they couldn’t dodge bullets.

"Over there! Covering fire!" The two leaders raised their muskets and fired toward the dense forest. They hadn’t seen anyone; they were shooting to intimidate the enemy and buy time for their comrades to find cover.

But at this point, they had all fired a round, and reloading would take time.

Yet, gunfire continued to ring out from the distance, taking down two more elites.

"This firepower isn’t right. The enemy must have at least six muskets."

Laosan was an old soldier, and he could easily judge the enemy’s firepower by the number of shots fired within thirty seconds.

His own men were well-trained musketeers, but reloading took them forty to fifty seconds. In contrast, the enemy’s gunfire never stopped, as if they didn’t need to reload at all. To maintain such firepower, they needed six muskets and six skilled gunners.

After just one exchange, they had lost six men without even seeing the enemy. If this continued, they faced certain annihilation.

"Erge, break out now while you can! Once they reload, we’re finished! I’ll cover our retreat. You all go, quickly!" Laosan shouted.

When Erge heard this, How could he agree to such a thing?

"You go first! I’ll hold them off!" Erge declared.

"Then take care, Erge!" Laosan yelled back. He fired his pistol into the distance, the freshly loaded bullet streaking away, then signaled the remaining men to break out in the opposite direction.

Now Erge felt he’d been played.

I was just being polite! How could you take it literally?

Curse my stupid mouth!

Erge had no real intention of staying. The moment he saw them run, he bolted in another direction.

How could he alone face so many gunners? Staying meant certain death.

Brothers? Don’t make me laugh.

They were deserters, bandits. Wasn’t everyone just trying to survive?

Just as the gunfire quieted, it erupted again. The elites who dared to peek out were mown down one by one. Even Laosan was hit, his body tumbling to the ground.

Instead, Erge seized the chance to escape into the dense forest, vanishing along with two other lightly wounded stragglers.

The gunfire, initially as dense as firecrackers, suddenly ceased. For a moment, only pitiful wails echoed at the scene.

The battle had lasted only two or three minutes. Those not hit in vital spots wouldn’t die quickly, but living was agony, for there was no hope of survival.

The dense barrage had stopped, true, but single shots still echoed from the woods.

It was like a roll call, each shot precisely finding a target, whether corpse or living man.

They could only watch helplessly as their comrades were shot, waiting for their own turn...

BANG!

One elite, completely broken, killed himself with his own musket.

His group of over a dozen had suffered devastating losses without even glimpsing the enemy. The immense pressure was unbearable. Rather than wait for the inevitable, he chose to end it himself.

Lance, who had been about to pull the trigger, paused, slightly baffled by the man’s action.

Really? With that kind of mentality, what was he doing trying to be a bandit?

Scoffing inwardly, he didn’t lower his musket, instead aiming at the next target.

These men were all elites, some wearing armor. If he didn’t make sure they were dead, what if one of them got up and shot him when he approached?

He couldn’t afford any mistakes; better to waste a little time and gunpowder.

BANG!

Another shot rang out. An elite trying to crawl away was shot through the back, collapsing motionless.

Just then, Laosan, who had been lying on the ground, actually began to stir and push himself up.