As soon as he stepped out of the woods, Cullens saw a puff of black smoke billowing up in the distance. He weighed it for a moment, and then hurried over. By the time he arrived at the scene of the incident, the aircraft that had previously skimmed over the woods had already exploded into a ball of fire. Except for the fact that it has a single-wing structure and the trailing edge of the wing is cut into the shape of a bird's wing, everything else hides in the flames and will soon be completely reduced to ashes......

Cullens rolled over and dismounted, and ran quickly to the burning "Firebird", where he found that the open cockpit at the nose was empty, and that the aircraft had no engine, propellers, or signs of broken powerplants.

As a motivated young man who is quite interested in aviation and has a certain amount of common sense, Cullens made a judgment after some close observation: this is not the flying machine that Nicolas Lebold has made up!

Looking around, there was no one in sight, and some footprints could be found on the ground, but they couldn't piece together a route to get out of here.

What is the identity of these uninvited guests? What are they here for? Why do you want to hide your whereabouts?

Reflecting on these issues, Cullens immediately became vigilant. He quickly returned to his horse, looked up into the distance, and his gaze was quickly fixed on the hill, which was less than two kilometers away. If the uninvited guests were on foot, it would be impossible for them to go far in such a short time, and the only obstacle in their view was the hill, which they were likely to hide on the other side of the hill or climb over it to continue their distance.

Thinking of this, Cullens made the bold decision to ride his horse towards the right side of the hill pack in order to observe its back without getting too close to it. It was a small lesson he learned in the tactics course at the Basston Military Academy, where his predecessors were mainly guarding against enemy gunmen lurking behind obstacles.

Among his peers, Cullens was a very good rider, and was able to control speed and direction with ease, even when partnering with unfamiliar horses. He carefully calculated the course of action, so as not to let himself get too close to Xiaoshanbao, 3,000 feet...... It should be enough!

Just as he was about to go around to the right side of the mountain bag, a tactful but not poignant whistle suddenly came from behind the mountain bag. With a stirring in his heart, Cullens hurriedly urged the horses under his crotch to speed forward. In a blink of an eye, a man and a horse came to a windward slope. From this vantage point, you can see an open meadow behind the mountain bag, and four or five miles to the west there is a leafy wood, which is a very suitable hiding place.

Although Cullens did not have Weiss's special ability to see through camouflage and hide nowhere to hide, after all, he had studied hard in a top military academy for more than two years, ranking among more than 200 cadets in the same period, and with just a pair of ordinary military binoculars, he could see the clues from the seemingly normal field landscape: a mile or two away from the woods, there were several dark-colored "grassy mounds", and their problem was not that there was a contrast with the surrounding environment, but that the location was too dense, and it was obviously not the work of nature.

Seeing what was wrong, Cullens removed the rifle from his back, keeping his guard from afar. At this time, he was hesitant to decide whether to shoot for warning, because he felt that this group of people was likely to be on his side - of course, the attackers did not need to act sneakily in their own control area!

In order to let the other party see his identity clearly, Cullens deliberately pulled the blue armband on his right arm up, lowered the muzzle of the gun, and stopped in place for about ten minutes.

But there was no reaction from the other side.

Kalens couldn't help but frown.

He changed his posture, carrying a gun in one hand and riding a horse in the other, and slowly walked forward.

100 feet, 200 feet, 300 feet...... When he left the position where he had stayed four hundred feet, that is, more than a hundred meters, his eyelids suddenly trembled, and he felt that something was wrong on the other side of the mountain bag, but he didn't have time to react, and the whole person was hit hard and fell off his horse suddenly.

The sound of gunfire followed!

On the back of the mountain bag near the top, a dense mass of "green grass" moved slightly, and the invisible white smoke quickly dissipated with the wind.

The horses fled in fright, leaving Karlens lying on his back on the grass, staring at the blue sky and the white clouds with his eyes distracted, blood foaming from his mouth and nose, and his limbs twitching incessantly......

Hearing gunfire coming from behind him, Kunison was taken aback.

What is Cullens up to? Aren't you afraid that the gunfire will disturb all the enemies in the town? Wrong! That's not the gunfire of the "Rugman burning stick", certainly not! What's going on?

Without having time to think about it, Kunison ran back to the place where the horse was tied with his gun, untied the leash and mounted the horse in one go, and ran in the direction from which the gun had come without looking back. Out of the woods, seeing the remnants of the flying machine that had been burned to ashes, slowed down slightly, observed the surrounding situation in general, and then continued to ride forward, and within a few minutes saw his companion lying on the grass.

"Culens! Cullens! Hundreds of meters away, Kunison eagerly shouted his companion's name.

Unable to speak, he struggled to raise his left hand and pointed to the mountain.

Unknown to him, seeing that his companion was still alive, he spurred his horse and galloped over, and found that Cullens's right arm had been detached from his body, and that a piece of his right chest was missing, and that the blood that had flowed from the wound had stained a large patch of turf crimson.

"Hold on! Cullens! Kunison dismounted, came to his companion's side as fast as he could, pulled the first aid kit from the other party's pocket, tore open the package, and beckoned to the wound on his right chest with hemostatic cotton, hemostatic medicine, bandages, etc.

Cullens waved his hand at him eagerly, but seeing that he still didn't understand, he pushed him with the last of his strength.

At that moment, bullets burst through the wind and flew past Kunison's cheek.

Kunison was stunned, he subconsciously touched his face, his hands were covered with blood, and he didn't know if it was his own or Culens'.

Cullens uttered a few syllables with extreme difficulty: "There are enemies ......"

Kunison turned his head and looked at the mountain bag not far away. He saw the drifting smoke, the strange grass, and the reflective sniper scope. At this moment, he suddenly remembered the sniper and counter-sniper skills taught by Colonel Borgwein; At this moment, he finally realized that he, like Culens, had become the prey of a sniper.

"Bastard...... Ah......" Kunison burst out in an instant, like a wounded beast, with a rifle in his hand, leaping on the spot, and rushing towards the mountain bag as if mad. At this time, the combat skills he learned at the Barston Military Academy were displayed in the form of passive skills: in the case of almost full speed sprint, he lowered his posture and kept changing directions, like a cat that has been avoiding the pursuit of vicious dogs, and like a cheetah that has been catching an antelope with all his might, in just two or three minutes, he has rushed to a position less than 1,000 feet away from the mountain bag, feeling that he can rush over with a little more force, and smash the sniper who is crawling there with the butt of his rifle to burst his brain. But at that moment, the gunshot rang out, and the bullet hit Kunison's right thigh impartially, and in the face of the high-speed flying pointed bullet, the strong muscles and hard bones were as fragile as tissue paper......

With a scream of pain, Kunison fell to the ground. After all, this burly cadet was only a young man who had just turned twenty years old, and he had neither seen the cruel side of war, nor was he mentally prepared for bloodshed and sacrifice, and even a few minutes ago, his mind was still stuck in a routine exercise in peacetime, and he felt that his companion might have encountered a misfire, so he hurried to help, but he did not know what a terrifying scene he was facing!

Holding the bloody broken leg and rolling on the ground a few times, Kunison stopped howling, he gritted his teeth, closed his eyes, took out his first aid kit from his pocket, trembled and tore it, tied the root of his thigh with a bandage, and then pressed the wound with a hemostatic cotton, and then bit open the hemostatic medicine bag, and sprinkled the powder with hemostatic and anti-inflammatory effects on the thigh wound...... In these short but long two minutes, he survived the most difficult stage of his life, passed the most cruel and harsh test, and had the tenacity and perseverance needed to become a qualified fighter, but he did not have the opportunity to experience this new state of life again.

In the line of sight, the "grass" stood up, stared at Kunison who had saved himself in the right way with a pair of cold and ruthless eyes, and then picked up the rifle with sniper scope in his hand.

The moment the gunfire rang out again, Kunison suddenly remembered that this gunfire was indeed not made by the "Grumman Burning Stick", it was crisp and neat, just like a flute is to a trumpet, and a cymbal is to a drum, with a completely different style. In Colonel Borgweyne's sniper training course, he had heard the sound of this sniper rifle, which was a "special honor" for students who had passed the tests and walked to the last few courses.

He remembered that the sniper rifle had an apt name, "Falcon", which was the exclusive patent of the Royal Arsenal of Feyennot in the Norman Empire. Known for its precision construction and range accuracy, its price is more than five times that of ordinary sniper rifles, and although it is listed as a prohibited export, many of them have been lost to other countries due to various reasons such as war, smuggling, and high-level gifts, and have become unique equipment for private collections and elite special operations forces.

A second pointed bullet mercilessly slammed into Kunison's chest, piercing his lower back and plunging headlong into the blood-stained dirt.

Kunison's eyes widened, and he squeezed out the last sentence between his teeth: "Damn Norman ......"