Monts later, the cannon fire, which had just fallen silent for a brief mont, resud once again. Accompanying the cannon fire was the fierce clash of tal as chas engaged in close combat.
More than thirty Black chas erged from the smoke and were completely entangled with the Second Battalion.
These Black chas, covered in scars, were clearly the survivors of the earlier barrage. They were making their last stand.
The Red chas surged forward like a tide.
But the Black chas fought to the death without retreating!
Thirty Black chas ford a circular defensive formation, blocking the Red chas' advance. They covered each other, advancing and retreating thodically. In the trenches, amidst the ruins of collapsed buildings, they leaped and maneuvered, fighting to the death.
In the desperate hacking and slashing of the Black chas, the leading Red chas fell one after another. The overwhelming superiority of the Eighth Generation chas over the 6th Generation chas was absolute. It was like the Gulf War on ancient Earth when US Army tank depleted uranium rounds pierced through two Iraqi tanks simultaneously, while the Iraqi tanks' shells were deflected by the US tanks' armor.
However, the nurical superiority of the Red chas compensated for this flaw. No cha is invincible. Under the tidal wave of Red chas, the Black chas also began to suffer casualties. Outnumbered, they could only rely on skilled coordination, alternating the chas with red energy shields or those that had lost their combat capability to the rear of the defensive formation.
Both sides fought fiercely like two groups of wild lions between the rubble and craters. This was no longer about victory or defeat; it was a contest of will and dignity!
The 01 cha piloted by Fatty had beco the grim reaper in the minds of all Red cha warriors.
This Black cha, in the eyes of the Blood-colored rcenary Army chanical Warriors, did not seem to be piloted by a human. On Puluo First Avenue, it always held the front line, wherever it charged, a bloody storm followed.
Its assaults were as swift as lightning; its battle axe, its fists and joints, every part of its body was a lethal weapon. No cha targeted by it managed to escape alive. It was invincible in close combat, and even long-range artillery was useless against it.
It was like a ferocious leopard, dodging shells with bizarre, swift movents. Its energy shield would at most turn light red, and as long as it slightly slowed its killing pace to focus on evasion, it would soon return to its despair-inducing blue state.
One Red cha after another fell at its hands. So were brutally slamd into the formation and hacked down with its battle axe, so were silently strangled from behind, and others were lifted and smashed into pieces on the ground.
If not for their nurical advantage, if not for knowing that the enemy was already at their last gasp and only needed one final push, many Blood-colored rcenary Army chanical Warriors might not have dared to charge forward.
Even the fiercest lion gets tired eventually. Finally, under the relentless assaults of the Red chas, the Black chas began to retreat. Their casualties were mounting, their numbers dwindling; they had to use the depth they controlled to gradually neutralize the enemy's attacks.
Kodell watched the long-range viewer's screen with a blank expression. He hadn't expected that after his near all-or-nothing firefight, the enemy's front line hadn't collapsed. The Second Battalion's attack had turned into a stalemate trench war. And this trench war, who knows how long it would last!
On the screen, as the Black chas retreated, more than a dozen Black chas at the rear positions stepped up. Under the lead of that exceptionally fierce Black cha, they stabilized the front line, plunging both sides into another deadlock.
Kodell pinched his brow with his fingers, his face livid and his jaw clenched!
The fallen "Fire Elents" on the front line were all trained by him. Suffering such heavy losses in the first battle was unbearable for him!
Looking at the map, seeing the narrow transverse alleys between the district buildings on both sides of the First Avenue, barely wide enough for two chas to pass side by side, Kodell slamd a fist on the armrest of his seat and barked, "Order the 3rd Battalion to press up from the district flanks, and command the direct-assault company to imdiately join the attack!"
***************
Zhang Kai weakly adjusted the cara angles, trying to capture every event in Puluo Town completely and truthfully. His strength had been depleted during the half-hour barrage. Even now, his head was still spinning.
From his buzzing ears ca the sounds of sobbing.
Zhang Kai pointed a cara angle at the source of the sobs— a girl with slightly swollen eyes, crying with tears streaming down her face.
The beautiful girl had smooth, black hair and bright, big eyes. At that mont, she stood by the window, biting her lip, tearfully watching the battle outside, crying intermittently.
Zhang Kai sighed softly; just a few hours ago, he had captured her cheering for the Black chas' victory. Then, her fair face had been flushed with excitent, her eyes shining, every part of her exuding youthful vitality and genuine joy.
But who would have thought that in just a few hours, it would co to this.
Zhang Kai opened his mouth, trying to comfort the pitiful girl, but he didn't know what to say. Everyone knew the defeat of the Black chas was inevitable.
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