C2333 Counterattack!

Once the mercenaries joined in the battle, the situation immediately became one-sided. They had spent their entire lives on killing people, and many of them had even been training since they were teens.

They had been involved in almost all the important wars in Europe for more than twenty years. On the surface, they were the work of the army, but they were the ones who had to deal with most of the dark work.

There was a robbery at sea, a ambush on land, and assassinations in the belly of the enemy, including escorting arms smuggling, and infiltrating the telegraph line that destroyed the enemy. They had completed too many dark missions.

Even in a short period of peace, they would not stay idle. Some Expedition would need to rely on these people to kill all the barbarian cannibals in order to enter the dangerous interior of Africa.

This was a group of warriors who were born to fight. In their creed, there was no concept of peace. For a short period of time, all of their lives had been dedicated to war.

How could these Englishman who massacred the civilians be their match? Whether it was in terms of the accuracy and frequency of shooting, they were all just a bunch of dregs.

The ten mercenaries began to scatter and search for hidden objects. Two of them with Spencer on their hands took up a corner and shot, and after taking down two of the British militia s, the rest of them either laid down or hid.

While the enemy's firepower was being suppressed, Moor warrior took the opportunity to dash onto the street. He bent down and rushed towards the Irish refugees who were being chased.

"Scattered Left and Right... hide in alleys and houses... "Fire Suppression …"

Pah pah pah … Paul and the mercenaries used all their might to suppress the enemy's firepower. Paul and the other four to five mercenaries rushed forward with a few children in their arms and started to evacuate to the left and right.

With a kick, the door slammed open, and without a second thought, the crying children were thrown inside, and then they were back in the rain of bullets, dragging the wounded Irishman by the arm like a dead dog to safety.

In just three minutes, these mercenaries managed to save more than ten Irishmen who were trapped inside. This showed how skilled these mercenaries were in training together, and during the whole process of shooting, Moor warrior did not have to worry about his own people getting hurt, as all of the bullets on their back avoided him like eyes.

It was only now that the Englishman realized her power. They had never thought that the Irishmen could have such firepower and skillful combat skills, especially those Spencer, which were so powerful they could not even lift their heads.

"Mercenary... Damn, this bunch of Irishmen must have planned this beforehand... Why didn't General Governor's Mansion and those bastards have any information at all … "

"The Irishmen can actually hire mercenaries, they must have an organization. They must have an organization working behind their backs, otherwise it's impossible for us to find mercenaries …"

As Paul listened to the English's miserable cries, a cold smile appeared on his face, "As long as you have questions, that's good. Long live the Young Irish Party! Intifada! The Dublin is in an uprising! "

All the mercenaries at the scene shouted in unison, "Long live the Young Irish Party!" Long live Ireland! Intifada! Long live independence! "

God! A chill flowed from the Englishman's heart.

The British are not afraid of the Irish, even if there are a hundred thousand riots. The British are worried about not having a chance to reduce the Irish population.

The grassy uprising was destined to be short-lived, the act of suicide, but it was impossible to form a political party of one's own to bring together organized resistance from the Irish folk.

If the Irish had their own forces, they would put their wealth, their own children together, they would train their own forces, they would have plans to make peace with the foreign powers.

When that happens, it would really become a poison tumor. To think that there would be a mercenary appearing in Dublin today, this meant that the Irishmen had already started to organize the gathering of resources.

In particular, the Young Irish Party, the worst underground party in Ireland during the famine, was too much of a headache, when the mob young people burned so much of Britain's food and so many of its ships.

And these people have a very good reputation among the masses, and they are all educated young people, and it is not an exaggeration to say that they are the future hope of the entire Irish community.

These educated young people carried the hopes of countless Irish people. The poor tenants and the destitute workers had no culture, and they did not know how to change their destinies.

In a life or death situation, other than believing in his own child, who else could he trust?

So these young people formed an underground faction that was always supported by the largest number of Irish citizens, and no matter how poor they were, the people in these bitter waters would be able to squeeze out their last copper coin and gather together to support the cause of the young people.

Not only was it money, but they could also sacrifice their lives. The rebellion organized by these young people could almost reach the size of tens of thousands. During that time, the British army was so exhausted that they almost vomited blood.

Although the young men were eventually suppressed, the name of the organization, the latest Irish uprising, was still engraved in the hearts of the British.

"It's really them!" It really was those madmen! No wonder the job was done so well. No wonder they could find mercenaries. So it was the Young Irish Party... "

"Get help!" Ask the Dublin Castle for help, where is our army? "What is the army doing …"

Only now did Englishman understand that the enemies in front of them were not people they, the militia, could go against. They had huddled up in a corner and tried their best to resist, but even though they had the advantage in numbers, they were still pushed back step by step by the enemy's firepower.

The Irish, who had received support from the reinforcements, finally came to their senses. The citizens who had been dragging their families along with them in escaping were hiding behind the mercenaries. They were all dumbfounded when they heard these people shouting the slogan "Young Irish Party".

"My God! "Sure enough, you didn't abandon us. The children from back then have returned, and they weren't all killed. There are still survivors living in secret …"

"We are not lowly dogs, we are the people of God! Brothers, get up and fight back. Without guns, we have rocks and bayonets, and we still have hot-bloodedness! "

The majority of the Irish people living in the Dublin were workers at the docks and factories. They did not have profound skills, but they did have a bit of strength.

Paul did not have that many rifles to provide to them, so they went up to the house to tear down the roof tiles. Like gorillas, they climbed up the rooftops, and when they rushed towards the Englishman's position, they were greeted with a pile of stone and jade.

Large pieces of tile and bricks that were pushed against the wall were smashed until British militia was bleeding profusely. As long as they escaped from their hiding place, the precise bullets from the mercenaries would be able to shatter their skull.

The situation immediately turned favourable to the Irishmen. More than sixty mercenaries were able to launch a beautiful counterattack on the four streets. The enemies on two of the streets were even forced to continuously retreat.

The remaining two main streets were also tightly protected by the British militia's crazy attacks.