C2343 Dead Mercenaries

In the pitch-black night, the burning street was like a dead fire dragon. It twisted and turned on the ground, and its struggling figure was like a parasite attached to the fire dragon's body, screaming as it fled in all directions.

Within the firelight, the distorted silhouette turned into charcoal, and the sounds of explosions could be heard wherever the flames swept past. This was the hell in Pierre's eyes, and the two chariots that had gone up against the fire dragons in hell had charged forward with the determination to die.

Even a tough guy like him could feel tears welling up in his eyes. Pierre rubbed his eyes and the tears made his vision blur even more. The two chariots in the distance were reflected by the tears, and they unexpectedly shone with colorful lights like gods.

"Brothers, have a good time …" We will protect the things you cherish the most! If it is as the Chinese say, there will be an afterlife... Then may we never go through war again! "

Moor warrior and the mercenaries that had followed them had already fallen into a Martyrs of fanaticism, the madly rushing carriages had knocked over countless of overconfident mantis arms.

Amidst the wind and fire sounds, the mercenaries laughed crazily. They sprinkled the flames along the way and turned the entire Dublin into a sea of fire.

"Forward!" Fight to death … so that the enemy will never forget this day! "

Moor warrior held the blood stained kobold in his mouth, holding onto the reins of the horse with one hand and whipping the horse with the other. The two horses in front of him were already tired to the point of spitting white foam as their muscles trembled.

"God bless us, let us persevere for a little while longer, let us persevere a little longer … Hold on! We must rush to the enemy's armoury! "

Just at this time, there was a sound, the carriage's grunt suddenly rolled over a corpse, and the carriage that was already in midair suddenly soared more than half a meter high, causing Moor, who was caught off guard, to almost fall down.

Just like that, the kobold moved an inch in her mouth. Her left cheek was cut by the sharp blade, and blood splashed all over.

Then looking at the Moor's back, two mercenary soldiers who were firing at him fell down from the back of the carriage as they couldn't even stand properly, at that moment, countless of English people cheered.

In the blink of an eye, seventy to eighty British militia s rushed out from the surrounding alleys.

"Ignore us, continue charging forward …" The two mercenaries that were alone threw away their rifles, they pulled out their daggers and bayonets from their waists, and then charged in the opposite direction, knocking down the crowd that was trying to take advantage of them.

The strong mercenaries were like two bulls, cutting through the militia to open up a path for them. Without any defense, they were all deadly moves that could advance but could not retreat.

The militia were indeed the militia. They had never seen such a brutal massacre before. Six of them were knocked down in the short amount of time it took them to get close to their bodies. The remaining people all retreated in fright.

"They are not human! This was an evil spirit from hell! "Shoot, shoot …" Amidst frightened howls, more than ten fully loaded rifles pulled the triggers, and the rain of bullets caused the two mercenaries to tremble.

"My life has finally come to an end …" The half-kneeling mercenaries jabbed their bodies with bayonets, barely managing to hold on to their bodies. Their gazes did not rest on these panicked faces, but on the direction in which Pierre was hiding.

"Remember your promise... Remember your vow to God... You paid for it with your life... "We'll just sell our lives to you guys …"

After saying this, the two fell to the ground and stopped moving.

The British militia who still had lingering fear let out a sigh of relief, "What a terrifying mercenary soldier. Just how much did these Irishmen spend? How could they have so much money? "Damn it, the carriage is already charging towards the armory. Everyone, hurry up and come back to provide reinforcements!"

Like a flock of ducks, the group of militia suddenly realized the most serious problem and rushed towards the direction of the fire chariot. However, at that moment, the two corpses on the ground suddenly moved.

"Die …" The bayonet had pierced through the heart of the militia by his side, and the grenade wire at his waist was burning.

"No …" Amidst frightened screams, two muffled booms rang out and the mercenary and the dozens of British militia around him fell to the ground.

The scene was so tragic that even the Englishmen who were trying to reinforce him were frightened to the point of being submissive. The psychological advantage that he had built up over the years on Ireland was now completely crushed by these mercenaries that were akin to gods of death.

They did not know how to defeat such an enemy, much less know what a transformation such a vicious battle would bring to the Irishmen.

The British could guess that the riots caused by the mercenaries must have been attended by countless Irish people, even watching from the darkness.

How could those Irishmen not change their minds when they saw that the mercenaries had torn the English's unbeatable skin to shreds?

The distant Moor didn't even have the time to care about the life and death of his brothers. In front of her, the warehouse near the north shore of the Lifei River had already opened its big doors, just like an defenseless little girl waiting for him to ravage his.

On the other side of the surging river was the British governor's house in Ireland, an Irish castle built by the British. In the darkness of the night, the torches on the walls outlined the majestic figure of the fort, hiding who knew how many more enemies there were.

"Enemy attack …" An enemy attack! " The arsenal on the riverbank, built by the British for the purpose of arson, held the most important of all flammable goods.

Kerosene, torches, semi-finished products and raw gunpowder, and even a batch of cotton and wool for making uniforms.

These supplies were worth more than 600,000 pounds. The British had left a company of defenders here to guard the area. When the two tanks reached a hundred meters or so, the guards immediately sounded the alarm.

Rifle after rifle appeared from behind the fence. Amidst nervous orders from the military, the British garrison began to fire towards the carriage.

Moor pulled out the kobold from his mouth with one hand and shouted, "Chariot, line up from the front, cover me!"

The two side chariots started to change directions, the other one sped towards the front of Moor, twisting and turning on the road as they moved forward. They were using their own bodies to protect their brothers behind them from the rain of bullets.

Puff puff puff … Blood splattered onto Moor's face along with the wind. At the moment, he had already made his final preparations.

The brothers tied the last four bottles of Molotov's cocktail onto the Moor warrior's body. I'm counting on you! We'll cover you, we'll die in front of you! "

"Jump off the car …" The mercenaries jumped down from the carriages from the sides and began to roll on the ground at high speeds. After they stabilized their bodies, they immediately entered a shooting state.

The dead mercenaries simply gave up on their lying down and crouching positions. They didn't even look for cover. They just held their guns and rushed forward while firing.

Closer and closer! When the front chariot was over 40 meters away from the warehouse door, the two horses could no longer hold on, the bullets ended the horses' life, the miserable screams stopped, the horse rolled on the ground, the truck rolled sideways, the barrel of kerosene broke, and kerosene sprayed everywhere.