"Huaxia Country is a nation of rituals, is this how you treat other competing teams? In a sense, we are allies against the Wild Wolf rcenary Group. If the situation here gets back to the tournant committee, you wouldn't be able to bear the consequences," the other side coldly shouted aloud.
"Want to negotiate? Turn off the signal jamr first. With no trace of sincerity, what's there to talk about?" Lan Xue disdainfully retorted with a sneer, while stealthily signaling to Luo Zheng.
Luo Zheng comprehended intuitively, responded with a ready signal, his index finger slowly pressing the trigger. Just as the other side yelled out, "What jamr? I don't know anything about that. All I know is that you fired first when we attacked the castle. We didn't know you were in the castle, so we attacked, but you clearly knew it was us and still you fired. How do you explain that?"
"Whiz!" Hearing this, Luo Zheng could bear it no longer. Feeling even the gun trembling with rage, he swiftly pulled the trigger. The bullet shrieked through the air, ferociously pouncing towards the target, like a primordial fierce beast completely enraged, instantly penetrating the other's brain, shattering it into a spray of red and white, as the body collapsed with a bang, dust billowing.
This shot was so sudden that no one was prepared for it. The person in charge of the negotiations had not expected Luo Zheng to fire under these circumstances. Although on guard, he was utterly unable to dodge Luo Zheng's unexpected shot. The teams from Sam Country hidden behind the sand dunes also did not anticipate the gunfire. Watching their comrade flop to the ground, they were hugely shaken, their faces filled with disbelief.
Given Lan Xue's righteous nature, she would not normally take such a shot. The other teams had counted on this, but they had not accounted for the presence of Luo Zheng. All of Luo Zheng's information had been classified as top-secret since his enlistnt as a soldier; no one could access it, no one knew of Luo Zheng. At this mont, all the team mbers realized the gravity of the situation.
Behind the dunes, the surviving mbers of the various countries looked solemnly at a tall and robust man. Tom, the captain of the Sam Country team—things had taken such a turn that everyone was sowhat thrown off balance. Tom, too, looked serious. After pondering for a mont, he looked around and said in a sinister voice, "The lake water is poisoned. We only have two choices: kill the people inside or retreat now. Make your own choice, but whatever it is, we stay."
"None of us is a coward, we from the Royal Special Team will also stay," a man with a fierce aura said defiantly.
"Right, we'll stay too," others chid in, although their eyes began to show hesitation. They were short-handed, lacking the advantages of weather, terrain, and alliance. Coupled with various degrees of poisoning, no water, and the extre shifts between cold and hot weather, they couldn't last long. How to fight this battle? But to leave now would be to let their brothers die in vain, and would pose serious problems upon return; they would not only offend Sam Country but also find themselves without an exit strategy at this stage.
Tom's resolute face was beaded with sweat. His icy gaze swept over the others, and he smiled satisfactorily, continuing, "I appreciate everyone's trust. We still have five warriors who can fight, and the enemy has at most five people. From the fight, only two of them have fired. Perhaps the remaining three are either dead or wounded. There's still a chance of victory."
"What do we do next?" a formidable warrior asked, his gaze steadfast and sharp.
"It's dayti now, and the view is clear. They're prepared, so a direct assault won't work. We'll wait until night," Tom said coldly as he looked towards the direction of the castle. A flicker of apprehension crossed his slightly closed eyes before returning to an indifferent gaze. He turned around to face the others, his expression resolute. "When night falls, three people will infiltrate from three different directions. Smaller targets are harder to spot. The remaining two snipers will provide long-range cover. I believe we can definitely break into the castle."
"Yes, that's the plan," the others responded in unison, their combat enthusiasm surging.
"Ouch." Suddenly, a wounded soldier let out a pained moan, drawing everyone's attention to him.
"Peter, how are you feeling? Can you hold on?" A fierce warrior walked over to the injured man sitting on a backpack, asking with concern, his gaze heavy.
"I can't take it, my stomach hurts so much." The other man said in agony, his face pale, his forehead covered in cold sweat, bent over, hunching his back, pressing his hands tightly against his lower abdon, not even aware that his secondary lifesaver—an unloaded gun—had fallen to the side.
"Ouch, I'm in so much pain too," another injured soldier cried out in agony.
Everyone exchanged glances, their expressions turning ugly as they all realized sothing had gone seriously wrong. Tom looked at the two n, his expression as grave as iron, his eyes slowly moving from the lake to the castle. A man with the aura of a wild beast approached without a sound and said in a low voice, "Captain, the situation is grim; the poison is more severe than we anticipated. The wounded soldiers' resistance is waning, and the poison is taking effect. I'm afraid we won't be spared either, what should we do?"
"Ah, it seems we have no choice but to retreat. Just one step away from success, just one step," Tom mumbled to himself, looking unwillingly at the soldiers suffering from the poison's effects, then at the others. The fighting spirit that had just been raised disappeared without a trace. He sighed helplessly and said in a low voice, "It seems we must launch a forceful attack now."
"But what if...?" the person beside him said worriedly.
"There is no 'what if.' For the mission, for honor, we are warriors; we don't have a choice." Tom's tone was resolute as he rebuked the person beside him, then turned to the others and continued, "It seems like we'll be affected by the poison soon too. We must capture the castle as quickly as possible. What do you think?"
"Let's go for it." The others began to cock their guns, ready to risk everything.
"Right, let's go for it. Death is inevitable, but before dying, we earn honor for our country and ourselves. Even in death, that is worth sothing. Three minutes to prepare. Sniper, provide sniper support. The rest of you, follow in a dispersed squad formation to charge. We have to take the castle as quickly as possible. Any questions?" Tom said with a murderous look.
"Ouch." Right after Tom finished speaking, a burly man checking his gun suddenly scread, clutching his abdon, doubling over in pain, white-faced and sweating profusely, clearly in unbearable agony.
Tom was shocked, glanced at the man, then his icy gaze turned back to the castle, full of killing intent. As another man scread out in pain, Tom felt a knife-like twisting in his own abdon. He furrowed his brows tightly, uttering a reluctant roar, "Aooo—!" His voice carried the unwillingness and the will to fight, piercing the hot desert air and shooting upwards into the sky.
"Let's go," Tom said helplessly, well aware that to continue would lead only to a dead end, with no chance of breaching the castle. It was better to leave quickly; perhaps there was still a chance for survival. With that, he turned and walked towards an all-terrain vehicle parked not far away, his silhouette bleak, emanating a sense of desolation and loneliness.
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