It's going to be exciting. Pen | fun | pavilion www. ｂｉｑｕｇｅ。 ｉｎｆｏ

After a five-minute rest, the artillerymen, with the help of others, began to dig pits and set up positions, making sure that the cannons on wheels would not move under the recoil.

At the same time, the idle musketeers had moved to a distance of only fifty meters from the camp, and scattered around the camp, pointing their black guns at this place of sin under the cover of rocks and tree trunks on the hillside.

After continuous improvement, the effective range of the rifled gun was stabilized at about one hundred and fifty meters, and the reason why it was so close was to facilitate harvesting.

After about half an hour, the cannon was firmly fixed, and by this time the noise from the camp became more and more thin, and one after another, the bandits who had won the money went back to sleep.

Jacob was a complete drunkard, and he loved wine more than women, and when he found that there really was a case of original sherry among the trophies he had snatched yesterday, he couldn't walk anymore, and he and his men ate it in the warehouse, and drank it with crispy salt-baked peas.

"Hey...... Boy, remember that time in Wendas, that was the one we gained the most...... Crates and crates of good wine...... Wake up, you...... Hmph, drunk!"

Jacob leaned his face on the table and drank the half bottle of sherry, which ran down his chin and down his neck, soaking his only precious fur coat.

After pouring it and finding that there was no wine, he knocked the wine bottle.

"One more bottle!"

No one paid any attention to him.

Even though it was late at night, there were still seventy or eighty bandits gathered in the largest room, and they were not sleepy for the time being, after all, they had just returned with a full load yesterday, and there was no need to go down the mountain in the short term.

The loser is red-eyed and wants to win it back, while the winner is eager to win more, and the huge windfall profits make them almost fanatical and completely immersed in the game.

In contrast, the wrist-wrestling ones were much healthier, and they adopted the Santiago-style rules of reward and punishment, and whoever lost was offered a bowl of wine, and for the bandits, silver coins and other things were not as good as wine and meat.

"Ha, Bison Marga has won again!"

Those who watch the excitement around certainly don't miss out on this great gamble, placing bets before the game starts, often with things like alcohol and daggers.

Marga was taller than Santiago, a giant of more than two meters, and even if he was sitting down now, people would not be able to stop his colossal body.

"I said that Marga is invincible, but there are always some guys who don't know the height of the sky and want to challenge him!"

Listening to the heartfelt admiration of the people around him, Marga smiled and took the wine that his opponent had lost, tilted his neck and wiped his mouth.

"Marga, can you tell us how you practice?"

Marga twisted his neck, happy to share the experience with his admirers.

"As you know, I was an ace thrower in the army before I went up the mountain, and then I became a deserter when I went to war with the Ottoman Empire. ”

"Why?" the crowd interrupted him.

"Idiot!" he scoffed, "I'm not stupid enough to take a spear against a cannon, haven't you heard that those West Asian barbarians are possessed by the god of war, and even Constantinople can't resist their attack!"

Speaking of this, he realized that he was off topic, waved his hand and continued: "When I was in the army, I would have people beat me like a sandbag every day, and I was covered in injuries. ”

"Oh, no wonder everyone didn't react to you at all. ”

"Hmph, don't say it's you, even cannonballs may not be able to shake me!"

As soon as the words fell.

"Bang!"

"Bang bang bang!"

Outside the house, there was a burst of tearing noise.

It was a sound that the bandits had never heard before, and they had never encountered an artillery unit in their more than ten years of career, so they thought that the explosion was nothing more than thunder.

However, in an instant, they paid the price for their slackness.

Ten cannon shells landed accurately in this big house, and Marga, a big strong man who had just exited the road, was hit head-on by a cannonball, and was instantly blackened.

Ten medieval shells were not enough to raze the house to the ground, and before the artillerymen could fill in a single shell, there were bursts of crying and screaming in the camp, and all the sleeping bandits woke up, picked up their machetes and ran out, but the poor thing was that as soon as they went out, there were at least four or five more bullet holes on their bodies, and they said goodbye to this world before they could figure out what was going on.

The group of people in the big house reacted more slowly, and the aftermath of the explosion still lingered in their ears, so that their brains were buzzing, and they were stunned for a few moments before they remembered to rush out of this place eroded by the fire.

Rushing out of the door like crazy, most of them were shot at once, and a few who were lucky enough to run to the clearing, were greeted by more fierce fire.

They didn't even know where their opponents were, they only saw a dense glow of fire symbolizing nightmares on the hillside and in the woods dozens of meters away.

If only it were a nightmare, then at least there would be a chance to wake up.

For a moment before they fell to the ground, they racked their brains and couldn't figure out where these artillerymen musketeers came from? Could it be that the Ottoman Empire had withdrawn its troops from Romania?!

Faced with overwhelming artillery fire and bullets, they gave up resistance in despair and fell to their knees.

A few of them were still believers, kneeling on the ground and praying their last prayers, presumably begging God to make them better in hell.

In five minutes, the battle ended.

Gunpowder smoke filled the air, and under the leadership of Zheng Fei, the musketeers carried their guns behind their backs and drew daggers to search the ruins for live mouths.

Only one person is still alive, and that is Jacob, who has been hiding in the warehouse.

Before the shelling began, Jacob's mind was already lost under the influence of alcohol, and when the cannon sounded, he looked at the dazzling fire outside and actually smiled.

He thought that it was the shroud of divine light, that God had abandoned him for so many years, and finally came back to him.

In the continuous shelling and gunshots, his consciousness gradually cleared up a lot, and then he felt that the sound outside seemed a little familiar, oh, it was the sound of gunfire......

He was so sluggish that he couldn't get excited, holding the empty bottle in his hand, staring blankly at his men who were constantly lying in a pool of blood outside the door, but he never went out.

It's not that he's timid, it's that he really can't walk anymore, and he drank two full bottles of sherry, and even if his consciousness has awakened, his body doesn't obey him.

When Zheng Fei walked to the door of the warehouse, he was still sitting like this, holding the wine bottle in his hand, and smiling sluggishly.

"He's the leader of the bandits, I've seen him!" said Klint through gritted teeth. (To be continued.) )