At this moment, the Martel Gang was deeply trapped in a desperate situation, caught between two attacking forces.
Renith made a swift decision. She proposed they first overcome the guards stationed inside the factory to seize a foothold, and then engage in a direct firefight with the group rushing over from the rear.
A deafening explosion ripped through the air. In an instant, two large holes were blasted into the walls of the buildings lining the alley, sending gravel and rubble flying in all directions. The people inside the alley lay scattered on the ground, groaning in pain.
Although many weren’t killed outright by the blast, they were riddled with shrapnel from the grenades, their bodies looking like sieves. The nearby guards, stunned by the sudden explosion, were momentarily frozen in place, unsure of what to do.
In that critical moment, the Third-in-Command roared out an order:
“Now! Open fire! Now!”
His timing was perfect. The nearby Martel Gang members snapped into action, advancing and firing methodically.
However, the shooting accuracy of these gang members was, frankly, terrible. Compared to the police officers, they were really just six of one and half a dozen of the other.
After the loud blast, taking advantage of the chaos, Kors threw a few more grenades towards the guard posts in different directions.
But this time, the effect was far less than the first explosion. Those guards reacted quickly – some ran, some dove for cover, some clutched their heads – actions that greatly reduced the grenades’ lethality.
Nevertheless, the grenades Kors threw still caused heavy casualties among the guard unit stationed behind the factory building.
Leaderless now, and facing the onrushing gang members charging like savage beasts, the entire guard unit fell into disarray for a time.
However, compared to the police, the guards were significantly more disciplined. Though the explosion caused momentary panic, the surviving guards quickly came to their senses. They rapidly organized themselves to check on their commander’s condition. That wounded adjutant made a prompt decision and immediately assumed command of the unit.
The adjutant looked around. He could only immediately gather thirteen men who were capable of fighting.
Facing the aggressive Martel Gang advance, he and the other guards without weapons began searching the ground for firearms blackened by the blast.
Just then, a guard member walked quickly up to the adjutant and shook his head, signaling that their commander had been killed by the grenade.
Two other guards brought over some weapons:
“Our Maxim gun’s barrel is badly deformed from the explosion. We have three submachine guns left, two sniper rifles, and various standard-issue pistols.”
The adjutant’s expression grew stern. He immediately ordered:
“Three of you, equip the submachine guns. Choose two for the sniper rifles. The rest of you, check the pistol magazines.”
“Our reinforcements are right behind us. The Martel Gang might be attacking fiercely, but this is their ‘last stand.’ They want to take the factory early and use it as a stronghold to counter our support force. We cannot let them succeed!”
“The Empire’s honor is above all! We must defend this position even if it costs us our lives! Is that clear?!”
The adjutant’s voice was harsh and severe. The guards before him stood ramrod straight, gripping their weapons tightly.
“Don’t spread out too much! Fire!”
At the adjutant’s command, the first three guards shot forward like arrows from a bow. They found suitable corners, not far from each other, and opened fire on the advancing gang members.
Bullets screamed through the air, mercilessly piercing the bodies of the advancing thugs.
The searing pain of being hit would only register a few seconds later. Only then would the advancing gang members realize they’d been shot. They were forced to stop their advance and crawl forward over the gravel, their attack severely slowed.
Sweat beaded on the Third-in-Command’s forehead, his clothes soaked through with cold sweat. He never imagined that after taking a grenade, those guards could still put up such intense firepower.
Meanwhile, the police officers lying in ambush at the six o’clock and twelve o’clock positions, taking advantage of the Martel Gang’s full focus on attacking the factory, were slowly advancing towards the small earthen slope. Only a handful of Martel members were on the slope. Facing an attack from three sides, their chances of survival were almost zero.
Pulling people back now would be incredibly stupid.
The Third-in-Command gritted his teeth. He hadn’t wanted to fight this desperately, but the situation forced his hand. There was no choice now.
“Everyone, run towards the factory! Abandon all defensive positions! Even if it kills us, we have to take this factory! Think they’re the only ones with automatics? We have them too!”
Saying this, the Third-in-Command pulled the Winchester rifle (referring to models from 1866-1905 here) from his back.
“It might be a little old, but it’ll still do the job!” As he stood up, a bullet grazed his cheek, the sting making him quickly duck back down.
A nearby gang member took the rifle from him. Holding the semi-automatic rifle, feeling empowered, he charged forward in a dash.
The Third-in-Command followed at the back of the group.
Renith, however, didn’t follow the Third-in-Command. She just quietly surveyed the guards and police converging on her from three sides, then sat down at the top of the slope. If these guys couldn’t take the factory, then she would step in.
“Overestimated their combat effectiveness… Didn’t expect such a gap in equipment.”
Renith muttered to herself. Has technology advanced this much in thirty years?
With the Winchester rifle in the fight, the火力 disadvantage on the main front eased slightly, but it clearly wasn’t much help.
That gang member was experienced with firearms. He knew the magazine capacity of the Thompson submachine gun and planned to rush to the factory wall and take out the guards while they reloaded.
But reality was far different from his plan. The guards were firing in relays. When the magazines of the first two ran dry, another immediately stepped up to take their place, with the snipers providing support.
Seeing the situation was bad, he had no choice but to hit the dirt quickly, dodging a burst of fire.
In the pause between bursts, he quickly raised his head and fired, hitting one of the snipers who was preparing to provide support. He then successfully rolled to a corner of the factory building.
“I’m hit…”
He looked at his thigh, pierced by a bullet, blood gushing out like a spring. It must have hit an artery. The pain made it hard to hold his gun.
He quickly took off the semi-automatic rifle and started tearing strips of cloth from his clothes, planning to tie off his thigh tightly to stop the bleeding.
The person beside him took the semi-automatic rifle he handed over. At first, he didn’t think anything of it, but then it hit him, and he nearly jumped out of his skin. He was the only one who had made it here. So who was this person next to him? He stiffly turned his head and saw Kors’ rough, burly face. He relaxed a little. Seeing Kors only had a small, crappy pistol, he said,
“It’s up to you!”
Now it was Kors’s turn to look completely bewildered.
Before coming, he’d only briefly learned how to use grenades and a small pistol. He hadn’t even planned on firing a gun, intending to hide after throwing his grenades until the shooting was over.
But now, he’d instinctively taken the rifle the gang member handed him, a weapon he had absolutely no idea how to use.
Facing the whistling bullets and a rifle longer than his forearm, Kors couldn’t help but miss his previous boss. That boss had taken him in and never made him join firefights; he seemed like a decent guy. But the very next day, Kors heard he’d been killed.
Later, the remnants of his gang were absorbed into the Martel Gang, and he started getting assigned various tasks.
Because he had good eyesight and was quick and agile, he was sent to investigate the recent movements of the guards and the situation at the factory. His good work got him noticed by the Second-in-Command, who let him work under the Third-in-Command.
He’d been in this line of work for barely a week when he got the news: he was to follow the Third-in-Command on the raid of the Boran firearm factory.
He was just about to curse his luck when he remembered the price the Martel Gang was offering – a sum that was impossible to refuse. It was equivalent to a whole year’s income for those two factory workers.
If he survived and made a significant contribution, the Martel Gang promised even more.
It was an astonishing figure. With that money, he and his five brothers could scrape by for a year. They wouldn’t have to scavenge for trash every day and constantly outwit the police.
“Hey, are you listening?”
“I’m here!”
Kors snapped back to reality, looking at the gang member who was explaining how to use the automatic rifle.
“The principle’s the same. Just pull the trigger… Remember, you only have 9 rounds left in this magazine. I used the other 7. I have two more magazines here. Just flip this lever to take off the old magazine, and slide this one on – easy.”
“That’s all there is to it. After that, just aim, work the bolt, and fire.”
After explaining, a look of unwillingness crossed the wounded gang member’s face.
“Kors… I envy you. You’ve only been here a few days and you’ve already caught the Second-in-Command’s eye. That attack just now showed me you’ve got several good talents.”
“Look, the Third-in-Command is already pushing towards the factory. We’re surrounded, and we need someone to quickly deal with those guards with submachine guns inside the factory. Otherwise, we’re looking at complete annihilation.”
“You and I are the only ones who made it here… There’s no doubt about it, you’re the only one who can lead everyone out of this alive.”
Noticed… Kors laughed bitterly inside. He’d rather not have been noticed.
If his family ever found out about such dangerous work, they’d definitely scold him for it.
But now, this was the only path left. There was no turning back.
High risk, high reward – seemed like an eternal truth in this world.
Kors took a deep breath. This guy beside him seemed to be putting his fate in Kors’s hands. Now, it was up to him to help the people around him survive.
“I’m… going.”
Kors’s voice was firm. He gripped the semi-automatic rifle tightly, pressed his back against the cold, hard wall, and moved forward cautiously, inching towards the direction of the intense guard fire.
Earlier, Kors’s grenade attack had put the nearby guards on high alert. They were now like startled birds, hyper-vigilant to every sound and movement around them.
Kors knew there was no room for error now. He had to be extremely careful; one slip and he’d be exposed and doomed.
It had to be said, Kors seemed to have a natural talent for stealth and surprise attack.
Even though the guards around him were tense and alert, they never detected his presence. Kors successfully circled around to the flank of the guards’ firing position. He quickly worked the bolt to chamber a round, his movements fluid and practiced, a fierce glint in his eyes.
He steadied the muzzle, aiming squarely at the guards who were furiously spraying bullets. The words that gang member had spoken to him just moments ago flashed involuntarily through his mind.
He thought of his comrades who had come to take the factory together, thought of the miserable fate that might await them, and thought even more of his family at home, with no one to care for or support them. Kors knew in his heart – he had no way back.
