"Move."
The voice, cold as iron, landed like a command, forcibly overwriting the consciousness of everyone present, yet the girl clearly had never opened her mouth.
Sudden pressure descended on every person, making even their breathing hitch. As if bewitched, both the Insect Race and the human army, that steel torrent of war machines, all unconsciously parted to open a road, its end pointing straight at the lieutenant.
Feeling the hostility coming from the girl, and staring at the soldiers standing there dazed and stupefied, the lieutenant's face twisted:
"What are you still hesitating for? This monster is no longer the Young Master. She's an imitator, or His Highness has already been converted by the Insect Race into a monster. Kill her, hurry up and kill her!"
No one answered. Behind the girl followed tens of thousands of bugs, her slender human torso thrown into stark, uncanny contrast by the massive spider abdon below. She raised her hand slightly, fingertips slicing through the air; the swarming insects that had been locked in combat all simultaneously shifted targets, tens of thousands of hungry gazes fixing on the lieutenant.
The lieutenant's expression collapsed, and he forced out an ugly smile. He had already foreseen the ending where he would be torn limb from limb.
Suddenly, inspiration struck him, and he shouted:
"Your Highness, I'm Syndicate!"
The scene fell deathly silent. The soldiers cast over stunned looks. None of them could believe that the officer they had lived and died alongside day after day would be a Syndicate mber, even less that he would expose his identity in such a ridiculous way.
Chichu Chun let out a soft, derisive snort.
"I know."
Hearing this, the man was first taken aback, then boundless terror and fury surged in.
Several poisoned spikes suddenly shot out, piercing through the lieutenant's chest and nailing him to the wall.
Before he had ti to scream in agony, the upper half of his body began to fester and ooze pus, and in the blink of an eye he was corroded into a puddle of purulent sli.
Chichu Chun lowered her hand and glanced at the soldiers present. eting their panicked gazes, she turned and walked in another direction. Countless insects clustered around her until she vanished from everyone's sight.
At the sa ti, a Mirage City group army infantry regint called the "Wings of Liberation" was drawing near the Southwest Military District. As they approached the warning zone, the soldiers stationed at the outpost spotted the unit. The sentries strode forward and gave a salute.
They had just received a top-level directive: Wings of Liberation would enter Nightmare City's outer security zone through their outpost. No other outpost had received this ssage, which ant that this operation by Wings of Liberation was a special assignnt with a very high level of secrecy. Without asking many questions, the sentries granted Wings of Liberation passage.
Tanks and artillery rumbled past. Staring at the silver-white Wings of Liberation emblem on the vehicles, the eyes of a new recruit, who had only been transferred here a few days ago, shone with longing. He looked around, only to find that the weathered faces of the veterans showed no change at all, as if this were the most ordinary thing in the world.
"This is the fad hero regint, Wings of Liberation. You really don't feel anything?"
The predecessor of Wings of Liberation was an obscure infantry regint of the 3rd Combat Brigade, 17th Division of the Mirage City group army, called the Eagles. Because of the aggressive command style of the forr regint commander, a fierce and ruthless ethos had taken root in the unit.
During a certain stronghold offensive and defensive battle, at a critical mont, the soldiers all showed utter disregard for death, forcibly reversing a collapsing situation. From then on, they rose to fa and were renad Wings of Liberation.
It was precisely because of its iron-blooded discipline that many subsequent recruits with similarly aggressive, even extremist fighting styles were drawn to it. So pointed out that Wings of Liberation had already shifted from being a fiercely brave elite regint into a gathering place for a bunch of extre lunatics. Because of their personal histories, these people harbored an abnormally intense hatred for the Insect Race. "Fearless of death" no longer fit them; they yearned to let death pin one more dal of Honor onto their combat careers.
"So what if it's Wings of Liberation? Just because they aren't afraid of death doesn't an they won't die," a veteran said with a sidelong glance.
Unfortunately, his words were overheard by a mber of Wings of Liberation who happened to be walking past. That man stepped out of the formation and ca forward, face set, not saying a word. Suddenly he jerked his head forward and smashed his forehead straight into the veteran's nose.
The veteran let out a scream, clutched his broken nose, and was about to fight the soldier to the death, but his comrades at the side dragged him back and talked him down, preventing the conflict from escalating.
"Heh, that's exactly why I say those guys are just a bunch of death-seeking maniacs! Just you watch, nothing good ever happens anywhere they show up."
"Why would they co here?" the young soldier asked.
"Who knows? Who cares what they're here for. As long as it's an order from above, even if you told them to point their guns at the current Patriarch, those dangerous bastards would carry it out without blinking."
The veteran cursed loudly in the direction where Wings of Liberation was receding.
"mbers of Wings of Liberation should all die on the battlefield. Who knows what dangerous things they'll get up to if you let them retire!"
His answer was a shell, which exploded in the woods right behind him. The veteran was so terrified he shrieked and jumped around. Once he realized what had happened, he was furious to the point his nose almost twisted even more, but he could only bottle up the anger and kick the young soldier in the butt, ordering him to go fetch so ice.
"Tonight won't be peaceful." Listening to the continuous artillery in the distance, the young soldier sighed and continued to hold his post.
"Who knows how many people won't make it ho."
...
All around her were Insect Race encirclent forces cutting off every escape route. The fleeing woman had nowhere left to run; she was run through by a flying crimson spike and fell to the ground. Looking back at the grotesque figure walking straight toward her, her eyes were filled with terror.
"Spare , spare !"
User Comments
0 comments from readers