Mickey led two sailors up the watchtower, and Gordon attracted almost all the attention, the sentries on the guard stared nervously at the dissipating smoke, unaware that someone had climbed up with their dexterity.

Poof......

The white knives went in and the red knives came out, and the three lives were harvested almost instantaneously, but the last sentry was aiming his gun at Gordon.

The fog had lifted, and Gordon had no place to hide, and he lunged towards the third man, who turned to see Gordon leaning over with a scimitar in his hand.

Boom!

In a panic, the blond-haired, stout and somewhat handsome guard caught Gordon's head slash.

After mastering melee weaponry, each of Gordon's attacks is dangerous, tricky, and aimed at the enemy's vital point. With an arm full of strength, each swing carries a huge amount of force, and the blonde man can only barely parry.

As the number of attacks increased, the strength of the blonde man who was forced to defend parried became smaller and smaller, like a turtle shell, and finally cracks appeared under dozens of powerful smashes.

By the time Mitch saw the last sentry, his finger had already pulled the trigger.

"Be careful, Captain!"

He yelled downward, the only thing he could do, and pulled out his pistol, but the enemy was clearly quicker than him.

Bang!

Time seemed so slow that the muzzle of the gun was lifted upwards by the recoil of the firing, and the projectile and flame left the muzzle and aimed at Gordon's back.

Gordon heard the shouting, and of course he understood what was going on, because he had been keeping an eye on the guy who had taken the high ground.

He thought he could finish off his opponent before the man opened fire, but it was clear that there was a mistake in his calculations.

Everyone pays for their mistakes, and Captain Gordon was no exception, with his strong body coordination, he avoided the vital point with a twisted sideways, the bullet embedded in his shoulder blades, and although the armor was weakened, the impact instantly knocked Gordon to the ground.

The enemy wouldn't let go of this obvious dawn, and the scimitar swung at the trajectory buried under Gordon's head, his handsome face contorted in the battle, about to kill the difficult foe, leaving him with a flush of victory. There was no hand left.

This knife goes down, and it is both victory and defeat, and life and death.

Gordon was shot in the shoulder, but that didn't mean he was completely incapacitated.

He threw away his scimitar and bent over his knees, his whole body tumbling close to the ground.

The scimitar slashed through the back of his head, and the unbelievable look of the enemy who wielded the knife showed an incredible look that he could not have imagined how quickly he could react to make the most correct judgment in an instant, and to use the most feasible technical methods.

Five or six reddish-brown hairs flying in the air, this was all his achievements, because in the next second, he was greeted by Gordon's thrashing.

His hands were on the ground, his body was curled, and the soles of his shoes were towards the somewhat hideous face.

Bang!

This is the sound of Mickey firing, and the Sentinel is shot in the chest before falling towards the ground.

Bang!

It was the sound of Gordon's feet slamming into his enemy's jaw, smashing bones and sending them flying.

Six of the enemy died in an instant, and the end of the battle was completely sealed, and the slaves began to realize what was going on, and the only remaining six overseers were an empty pistol, a scimitar, and a whip, and they had sixty men.

Gordon didn't move again, wiped a handful of his hair wet with dirty water, and then sat down on the protruding rock, and motioned for Mitch and the others to just sit on the sidelines and watch as well.

They have done enough, and if these slaves do not have a little flesh and no yearning for freedom, it means that servility is deeply rooted in their hearts, and it is in vain to save them.

In these years, if people cannot find help for themselves, they can only go to perdition.

The Overseer formed a circle back to back, trapped in the middle of the pit, the only man with a gun struggling to reload in the icy rain, but a slippery hand spilled a pack of projectiles on the ground.

"Damn it, get out of here! ”

They terrorized the slaves with knives, tried to get them to roll away, and then leaned down to scoop the bullets out of the dirty water.

One of them saw Gordon standing on a stone in the distance, the demon in a red suit, and he shouted.

"Let us go! We're just taking money to do things, and your grievances have nothing to do with us!"

These overseers are also just people who are on the move, whether they have been sailors or some pirate, and if they are strong, they can eat here.

At the end of the day, people are running around, just to make ends meet, and they are just the lowest people, and the only one who has some status has already jumped over the wall and fled.

"It's not up to me. ”

Gordon just watched quietly, he was already a little tired, he once wanted to give pity to poor people, the way of life with good thoughts in his heart, to give death to those who did nothing evil, but he forgot that he was just a poor person.

When his hands were stained with the blood of innocent people for the first time, just to save his friend Duncan, he began to realize that talking about human nature, good and evil was nothing more than a joke for the weak.

For the sake of their own survival, these things can be trampled on at any time.

All things are false, all things are allowed, and it is only by making every Assassin abandon the morality, law, and mercy in their hearts in order to achieve their goals in this ruthless world.

The slave's approach put a lot of pressure on the overseer, and a whip was thrown out and whipped directly into the face of a black slave.

Scattered pieces of blood swung into the air with the whip's twitching, but the latter, no longer with the cowardice of his former time, let out a roar of rage.

"Roar!"

It's hard to tell what this roar contains, humiliation, anger, or the joy of freedom.

He had only one stick in his hand, which had been removed from a tattered tent, but he was full of unstoppable determination when faced with the sword.

One man moved, and everyone around them moved, perhaps without weapons, but with the shackles in their hands, they smashed the enemy hard, and their chests met the blades.

The Overseer finally hacked the three men at the front to death, and then was smashed into a pulp by the crowd that pounced on them, and the slaves could not understand their pleas for mercy, and perhaps even if they could, they would not be relentless.

Gordon sat on a stone and lit a cigar to relieve the ache and ache of his conscience, and the rain soaked so much of the tobacco that he couldn't even smoke it.

There is no one right or wrong at all, the conflict brought about by different camps, on the one hand, for their own freedom, in order to find their own way of life, on the other hand, just to make ends meet, but the result is to fight with their lives.

"Oh, what a fucking world......"