My Players Are So Fierce

942: 320.

Ellen’s “Family Gathering”_2

942: 320.

Ellen’s “Family Gathering”_2

Stick Brother, who had a vicious gash across his face, spat out a mouthful of bloody saliva into the air beside him and cursed:

“That bastard is not only tough himself, but also summons minions to fight for him, such utter disregard for fair play.

All the undead on Bank Street were summoned by that asshole.

I just knew those developers wouldn’t let us get those gold bars that easily.

Damn it, we came to the wrong place; this is definitely a high-level map, and it might even be a hidden group instance.

This time we really took some heavy losses.”

“Ah, Stick Brother, try to think about it differently,” said someone.

Out of the thirty members of the Scarlet Hammer Sickle Group, only Stick Brother and Kind-Hearted Shark Uncle, the bald vampire, survived.

Relying on his ability to fly, he had escaped to the ruins above before the undead horde flooded in, narrowly surviving.

He touched his head, which didn’t quite fit with his vampire identity, and said to a dispirited Happy Stick:

“We found the gold, right?

It’s not like it’s going to sprout legs and run away, and with that super powerful undead guarding it underground, it’s like being tucked away in a safe.

We just wait until we’re stronger and then come get it, right?

It’s just a delayed gratification.”

“Hey, you’re really a genius, turning a bad thing into a good thing with just your way with words.

Come on, take the seat of Prime Minister Balat,” Stick Brother said mockingly, as he gave Kind-Hearted Shark Uncle a glare, who then stopped talking sheepishly.

But then Happy Stick sighed and said with great irritation, his gaze fixed on the bank ruins now surrounded by undead, clenching his teeth:

“But for now, we can only comfort ourselves like this.

The operation wasn’t a failure; it was just 95% successful…

Consider this a wake-up call that we shouldn’t be touching these high-level secrets when we’re low level.

It’s a complete trap!”

“Right, look on the bright side.

Didn’t we still bring out a bit?”

Wumeioge took a drink of water and tossed the three Psychic packages he had at his waist to the floor.

They clanged, clearly filled with some of the gold bars.

“Take them,” he said, waving at Stick Brother:

“I know you’re under pressure to perform right now.

We’ll talk about the split when we sort out this Treasury.

Take these to Little Brother Fu to show that his investment wasn’t in vain.”

“Thanks,” said Stick Brother, without refusing.

He really needed those gold bars to prove he had found the great treasure.

After all, he and Wumeioge were old friends, and there was no need to stand on ceremony at this time.

But what Stick Brother found most painful was the loss of their brothers’ equipment in the underground Vault; the equipment they had struggled to acquire was almost entirely gone, and rearming would cost a significant amount of money.

He felt a considerable ache and kept reviewing how his recent string of successes had made him forget about the hidden threats of Transylvania and lose his alertness.

For a commander, this was an unforgivable basic mistake.

However, Stick Brother soon had a new idea, his gaze shifting:

He nudged Wumeioge on the shoulder and whispered:

“The city bank treasure hunt might have failed, but I have another project in hand about the Blood Vulture Arsenal that Sir Morphy has mentioned a few times.

Rumor has it that it was a secret arsenal built by the Blood Vulture Clan at the height of their power for warfare.

There’s one in both the north and south of Transylvania.

There’s no news about the one in the south, but I know exactly where the northern one is.

If you trust me, let’s take a trip there!

I’ve already made a deal with Sir Morphy before leaving.

After finding the Arsenal, 70% of the weapons will go to the Crimson Castle and 30% to my team.

Our Scarlet Group has suffered huge losses, and the brothers desperately need to rearm, so I can only give you 10%.”

“Going again?”

At this point, Wumeioge was a bit apprehensive.

He couldn’t help but ask:

“Aren’t you afraid it’s another high-level Treasury guarded by powerful custodians?

Do you really want to bet the little bit we have left on it?”

“No, trust me, this information about the Arsenal is a mission we got from Sir Morphy himself.

The developers wouldn’t be so heartless as to set up unbeatable enemies in the mission plot of a side quest, would they?”

Happy Stick said earnestly:

“We rarely get the chance to be out here.

We can’t go back having done nothing, can we?

If it really comes to it, I’ll just have to swallow my pride.”

“Fine, I’ll go.

Ten percent is ten percent, it’s just helping a brother out,” agreed Wumeioge with a nod.

But this sly social player quickly changed the subject, adding:

“But as you said, there’s still another arsenal in the south waiting to be unearthed.

So when the time comes, I want half of the earnings from the second arsenal!”

“Half?

Why don’t you just rob me?

You want half just for asking when it’s me who has done all the hard work building reputation and finding the mission?

Besides, what do you need so much weaponry for?”

Stick Brother questioned:

“You run a small operation.

You can’t possibly use all those weapons.”

“Heh, what do you think I’m doing?”

Wumeioge rolled his eyes and sneered:

“We’re all local foxes here, why pretend?

My team can’t handle it, but you can?

Come on, we all have the same plan!

We hoard gear and wait to sell at high prices when the Black Disaster strikes!

You allow Happy Stick to do that business but not Wumeioge?

There’s no such rule in the world!”

Seeing Wumeioge speak so frankly, Happy Stick had nothing to refute and had to accept his bad luck.

He also realized that the game was truly full of talented individuals!