My Players Are So Fierce

With a “clang,” the snow-white blade sprung out like a mantis’ sickle, penetrating the wooden box placed before him precisely and lethally.

The sharp blade pierced the box through and through, then retracted into the arm amidst the mechanical structure’s closure, accompanied by a column of steam released from the mechanical arm.

“See!

I told you, didn’t I?”

Loyal Brother proudly introduced to the surrounding soldiers:

“We’ve done weapon tests; this thing can easily stab a Bear Goblin at close range.

Of course, it’s a bit struggling against the Elite Jackal Man, mainly because this little guy only has one mechanical arm, causing unbalanced power.

If he had two mechanical arms, then the simultaneous strike of two Mantis Blades would be enough to pierce through the hearts of the Wolf People simultaneously.

Better not use it to stab the Wolf People’s skull.

Those barbarian’s skulls are too hard, truly unbelievable, small caliber ammunition can hardly pop their skull open.

No matter, we’re changing the barrels, it’s best to use a uniform format barrel for easy replacement, oh my, full power ammo is real civilization!”

This guy starts rambling about things others don’t understand, but this round of “arms exhibition” is indeed impressive.

Some injured soldiers began considering whether to buy that damn “value-added service.”

Mainly because they personally experienced the power of the Black Disaster last night.

The pressure from the Wolf People and Gnolls surging forward was terrifying; human physical quality is inherently far inferior to the Wolf People, normally requiring two to three soldiers to fight one Dark Mountain Jackal.

If the intensity of the war escalates further…

Honestly, whether they can survive is an unknown, no one wants to die, under such pressure, equipping weird machinery doesn’t seem to be a problem anymore.

“Loyal Brother!

Come quickly, Old Flywheel is personally performing a ‘heart replacement’ surgery on a soldier, come and broaden your horizons, mate, the steam heart he took out is so exquisite, my god, I’ve never seen anything like it.”

Chief believer of Multi-Turret shouted outside the tent, instantly invigorating Loyal Brother.

While carrying his briefcase out, he advised the intrigued soldiers to first go to the arsenal’s field hospital office to pay for the value-added services, simultaneously pondering on pestering Old Flywheel to assist in resolving the “Iron Fist” development.

Currently, the firepower of the small cylinder is hard to meet the demands of war.

If recoilless guns and rocket launchers could be locally manufactured, then the People’s Army’s firepower would undoubtedly increase in capacity again.

Unfortunately, Old Flywheel is picky.

He clearly stated he was unwilling to take another apprentice.

Otherwise, Loyal Brother and his group of “War Technology Giants” would have bowed at once.

Presently, both sides are merely cooperating.

Old Flywheel is willing to explain the secrets of engineering to them, but if one needs his help, Loyal Brother must show “sincerity”.

For instance, when inviting Old Flywheel to join the “war insurance” claims industry, Loyal Brother used a set of Little Eight Gaga rubbish Bean tank schematics.

Fortunately, Loyal Brother’s level allows him access to many sensitive pieces of knowledge; he is also happy to use these otherworldly engineering secrets to quickly enhance his factory technology.

Win-win!

This is indeed win-win.

—

“Quick!

Speed up the pace!

We must reach Shadow Valley within three days, damn it!

That fool Fraser almost got himself killed on the battlefield, I am truly damned!”

In the Polluted Swamp, Major Ron rode his horse, shouting, urging the reinforcements he brought from the Vanguard Camp to hasten their advance.

They walked on the safe road marked by the Transia People, where Avalon Church’s Druids had planted many seeds to solidify this military road, allowing soldiers to pass through quickly and even gallop on horseback.

Yet Major Ron couldn’t rejoice over his shoes not having to tread on mud; on the contrary, he was filled with worry and bitterness, prompting him to curse with the vulgarities learned from those strangers.

This anxious mindset was quickly sensed by Major Ron’s Deputy Captain Robinson, who, respected in the Vanguard Camp as “Iron Hand,” grasped the reins with his black mechanical arm, approached the officer, and whispered:

“According to the latest news, Major, Colonel Fraser is out of danger; you need not be so worried.

In fact, as we passed through the Maginot Line, you could go to the field hospital to see him.”

“I dare not go, Iron Hand.”

In front of his trusted deputy, Major Ron didn’t hide his feelings, he sighed and said:

“It’s not that I am cowardly, but because…

you know, it should have been me leading the artillery team to support the Transia People; it should have been me who got injured, not Fraser.

He went in place of me and bore pain and nearly met death’s doom, I…

I feel like a coward enjoying peace behind my brother.

I can’t just go see him empty-handed.

I must show some sincerity!

Iron Hand, I’ve made up my mind, this time on the front line, I’m taking people to guard the Blackflame Mountain Pass, I want to achieve victory.

Only then will I be worthy of Fraser’s sacrifice.”

“We will follow you to the ends of Hell, sir.”

Robinson Iron Hand said solemnly:

“The courage shown by the Transia People is awe-inspiring, but we Ceylan People will not fall short!

It is time to embrace war.”