A low horn sounded, an order to retreat. Even the most frantic Alliance soldiers began to retreat without hesitation. They did not run away in a scattered manner, but picked up the wounded, covered each other, and calmly fought and retreated towards the entrance of the bunker. Instead of saving bullets and aiming carefully, the Alliance shooters on the rooftops of the bunker poured fire quickly into the crowded demons, trying to separate their retreating companions from the demons with a barrage of bullets.

The demons who could kill themselves would not let the coalition retreat into the bunker unharmed, and many demons were in hot pursuit in the rain of bullets, and some of them were about to fall on them with their swords and axes. But at this moment, the roar of artillery once again resounded on the battlefield.

The dwarven artillery fired grapeshotfire this time. Several streaks of gunpowder smoke erupted from the cannon window on the second floor of the bunker, and along with the gunsmoke, hundreds of iron pellets the size of eggs were spewed out.

Like a harvested crop, the deafening roar of artillery roared and the dense demons were swept down in unison. The dense steel hail hit the flesh and blood of the demons, directly a terrifying blood hole, and some even half of their bodies were directly destroyed, and almost every projectile was pierced through several flesh in a row. The body ran out of kinetic energy and stopped. When the smoke cleared, it was found that with a cannon as the center of the circle, seven fan-shaped blanks with extremely narrow angles were swept out of the demon group. These fan-shaped areas were covered with rivers of blood and flesh and blood, and the sight of their horrific condition made even the most ferocious demon feel cold. They were so stunned on the spot that for a moment they completely forgot to continue the pursuit.

Taking advantage of this opportunity, the remaining Alliance troops quickly retreated into the dwarven bunker and closed the gates. This time, they put themselves to their deaths, and there was no other way to go!

"Count the manpower, count the weapons and ammunition!" Watching the two-foot-thick door slowly close, locking the bolt and keeping out the frantically surging demons, Diego turned and shouted a command at Burgard.

"Yes, sir!" The latter complied, and right next to him, Brian Copperbeard motioned to his lieutenant to do as Diego said.

"How much longer can we hold out?" Watching them leave, Brian glanced at Diego and asked.

"I don't know, I can hold on as long as I can!" Diego spread his hands, the current battlefield initiative is not in their hands, if before they all die, the alliance army in the center can win, then they still have a chance to live, otherwise, then everything is over.

Diego threw his death stare back and patrolled the bunker. To be honest, he'd been living in this bunker for almost a month, and he wouldn't go the wrong way with his eyes closed, but he still wanted to check it again, as if he couldn't put his mind at ease otherwise. Brian followed behind him, chatting with him every sentence.

It is an enlarged version of the Dwarven Bunker, which is oval in shape and looks like a turtle shell clasped to the ground, but it is at least twice as large as the most common dwarven bunker in the Danmorro area, and the walls are thicker and stronger.

In the middle of the first floor of the bunker was a hall about thirty yards square, which also served as a dining room, but at the moment the tables and chairs in the hall had been piled up behind the door, acting as a barrier. Facing the main entrance of the hall is the weapons and ammunition depot, which has a lift that leads to the second floor and is used to transport ammunition. The row of rooms on the left side of the hall houses the soldiers' quarters, while the row of houses on the right houses houses the kitchens, the officers' quarters, and the most important place for the dwarves, the wine cellar, which has now been drunk by the dwarves.

"It's not so much waiting for the demons to come in and give it a bad deal. It's ruined, why don't we drink it up ourselves! That's what the dwarves said, and if it weren't for the drooling and wet beards as they said it, their words would have been convincing.

The second floor of the bunker is the fire output level, and the walls are open with many gun windows and musket holes. However, at this moment, the gun windows on the second floor have been closed by iron plates as thick as one foot, and the back is clamped with steel bolts. The rate of fire of the dwarven artillery is too slow, and opening the cannon window without the cover of peripheral forces will only become a breakthrough for the enemy.

On the side of the second floor, there is a spiral staircase leading to the roof, where Diego has placed half a company of shooters in case the demons launch a surprise attack from the sky. Now there is a lively fight above, and the sound of ping-pong gunfire is endless.

He walked back to the first floor, and as soon as he walked down the stairs, the wall beside him suddenly made a loud "thump" and shook violently.

Diego was startled, but he quickly understood what was happening—it was the demons banging on the walls with heavy weapons like warhammers, trying to find weak spots in the walls of the bunker.

He glanced at Brian with some concern, and the latter waved his hand casually, signaling that he didn't have to worry.

"With this level of impact, they won't come in for 10,000 years!" The dwarf said nonchalantly.

Indeed, the walls of this bunker are very strong, even more than a meter thick, completely dwarven style, stupid and stupid, strong and solid, not to mention resisting swords and hammers, even if the dwarven artillery bombards it, it can only leave a shallow white mark.

After a circle, everything in the bunker was in order, the soldiers were methodically preparing for battle, and the demons seemed to be thinking about how to break the sturdy turtle shell, and they were tentatively probing the wall with a hammer and a mallet in the west. With nothing to do, Diego sat wearily on a wooden box and pondered.

From the beginning of the crossing until now, three and a half years have passed. For more than three years, he had been working hard and alone, running around, trying his best to maneuver between the forces of various races, in order to prepare for this great war, but at the wrong time, the Chira Worms controlled by the evil god Cthun actually made a comeback at the same time as the Burning Legion, so that the various ethnic armies of Azeroth had to divide their forces to deal with the evil forces in the two eastern and western continents. Evil. forces, on the contrary, make the troops in both places seem a little stretched. This made Diego wonder if it was because of his crossing that caused such serious consequences? Is this the so-called self-correction of history by the world itself?

You must know that in the original timeline, the Horde and the Alliance worked together to first solve the Zerg and the Kthun behind them, and it took more than half a year before the invasion of the Burning Legion was ushered in. In the face of the various ethnic alliances that concentrated the power of the entire Azeroth, the Burning Legion was defeated almost immediately, and was even counterattacked to the outer regions later!

In fact, Diego has been keeping his emotions in check since the start of the Great War in the Cursed Lands, taking on almost every battle, often carrying a death gaze against the opponent's entire ranged power. But after all, people's nerves are not made of iron, and people's self-control is weakened with the decline of energy, not to mention that the entire Yuexi Brigade is on his shoulders! The closer he got to a desperate situation, he couldn't help but start blaming himself as he was exhausted - how good would it be if I hadn't crossed over? I can continue to be a small staff member in peace, and the world of Azeroth can continue to develop smoothly after defeating various natural and man-made disasters one after another as it was in its original history.

But in fact, he himself knew that it was not what he really wanted, and the current situation was definitely not his fault, he just began to waver subconsciously and began to doubt himself.

The old dwarf sat down on the wooden box across from him, took a flask from his bosom, opened it and took a sip, then handed it to Diego.

"Hey, young man, you're so tired, take a bite of this and relax! For dwarves, there is no problem that a pot of wine can't solve! If one pot really can't solve it, then two pots! ”

Diego shook his head with a little crying and laughing, rejecting the dwarf's offer. At the moment of the great enemy, he really can't arouse the interest of drinking. Just then, he was surprised to see the Night Elves walking towards him.

"Diego, I think we need to talk about it alone!" Masrae said with a serious face.

"This ......, all right, but you'd better hurry, the demons won't give us much time." Diego said with a deep groan.