This year's snowfall is far greater than in the past, but the current mayor, Lincoln March, understands the righteousness and calls on people from the upper reaches of the society to enthusiastically raise funds and urgently build hundreds of temporary shelters for the homeless, so as to prevent the situation of freezing to death of Gotham citizens this winter.

On the outskirts of the city, the clouds were so low that they almost clinged to distant mountain passes, and the cold moonlight leaked through the cracks in the canopy, sowing shadows.

Hastily crushed snow fluttered and echoed in the wind, splashing all over the ground.

The regular snowflake diamonds were coupled to each other, embedded in each other like gears, and the process was silent, eerily quiet.

The Night Stalker Assassins waited beneath the snow.

The talons of these owls lurk around the robotic arms, breathing through hollow pipes that reach the snow.

Their hearts beat very slowly, thump, thump, like some kind of animal hibernating in a tree hollow.

After a long wait, the guests arrived.

The sound of dull footsteps spread through the snow, far and near, and the Assassin slowly moved his body as if commanded.

1,000 meters, 600 meters, 300 meters,

The footsteps were getting closer, and the Assassins could even feel the shaking of the snow being lifted and the dirt being trampled.

Thirty meters away, it's time to get started.

There was no cup dropping, the night owls stepped on the mud surface, and their vigorous bodies rushed out of the snow layer and rose from the ground.

In the messy snow, the assassin finally saw the true face of the human slaughter,

It was a three-meter-tall humanoid monster, with a huge waist and abdomen, and its whole body was covered in armor made of raw black iron, and its head was born with two barb-like coiled horns, and its eyes were red, and in the night, it was only like a candle flame, and a pair of hook-shaped chelica protruded from its mouth, as unruly as ivory.

The monster slowly ploughed through the snow with its stubby thighs, and its arms, which were as thick as beams, were wrapped around one arm after another, swaying with its movements, making a crunching sound.

Each of these chains was connected to two weapons, and on the right hand was a bone-chopping butcher's knife, cast of cast iron, the size of a door panel, and topped with a large goat's skull, and the goat's spine spread all the way down, acting as the back of the knife.

In its left hand it holds a curved hook, a giant hook used in the slaughterhouse to lift livestock, with a deep blood groove carved into it in the most rugged way.

"This is human slaughter??"

Doubts suddenly rose in the hearts of the Night Stalker Assassins, they had seen the photos of the battle scene, and the three-meter-tall monster in front of them was obviously different from the human slaughter.

However, before they could finish their doubts, the Iron Butcher moved.

It slammed on the mud, cracks spread, and the trees around it shook off the snow under the heavy earthquake.

The butcher threw his left hand behind him, his massive body tilted slightly, and the iron chain wrapped around his left arm slid down quickly.

Swing forward with your left hand, and throw the meat hook,

The chain collapsed into a straight line, spanning a distance of thirty meters, swinging out an arc-shaped trace,

Any trees that stand in front of the chain are cut off at the waist, sawdust flies, and these holly trees that have grown for dozens or hundreds of years slowly fall and collapse.

Rumble!

The iron hook pierced the chest of the Assassin standing at the front, which was no more difficult than a toothpick to pierce the snail meat.

centering target,

The hapless Night Stalker Assassin lowered his head in a daze, looking at the iron chains that "grew" out of his chest, and a trace of confusion flashed in his weather-beaten eyes.

The butcher stood in place, gently tugging on the chain,

The flesh hook poked into his back, and the Assassin flew, his feeble toes scraping a groove in the white snow, like a polished stone for striking, towards his predetermined destiny.

Boom!

The butcher grabbed the Assassin by the neck and tilted his head, staring at the dying victim with his red eyes.

The other night owls had already stepped through the snow, but the butcher unhurriedly removed the Assassin from the meat hook, held it high in the air, held it in the air with one hand on his shoulder, and with the other his leg, pinched the ends of the Assassin's body.

Ever wrung a towel? The fluffy towel soaked in warm water is twisted by the hands, and the excess water is squeezed out and drenched down.

The butcher squeezed out the Assassin's blood like a towel, gulping open the blood basin and gulping scarlet.

Demons, demons beyond doubt.

The Night Stalker Assassins had been trained with unimaginable rigour, but even they were sinking from the bottom of their hearts at this moment—fear rooted in the instincts of living beings.

This fear was like an invisible, formless hand that pierced through the so-called tempered bodies and grabbed the hearts of the assassins.

Fear turned to fuel, setting the human bodies of the Night Owl Claws on fire, driving them to draw their blades, pick up their guns, and kill the steel butcher in front of them by any means they could.

Useless.

The rifle bullet hit the butcher's heavy armor, leaving only a tiny pale white dent, and the bladed dagger, which was said to be "sharpened like clay", could not even break through the defenses, except for the tooth-aching hiss.

The butcher swung his bone-chopping steel knife, and the door-like blade cleaved a human body with a thousand powers, and the thick and warm blood splattered on the snow, slowly seeping down, spreading down like the roots of a tree.

The night owls were oblivious to sacrifice, like fireflies, filling every inch of the butcher's circle with their pitiful and ridiculous bodies.

They bought time,

In a clearing not far from the snow, the other night owls took something out of the tin box at their feet.

Rocket-booster grenade launchers, also known as RPGs (Rocket Propelled Gremade).

The rocket launcher, known as the M136-AT4, is the U.S. Army's primary light anti-tank weapon, equipped with Army infantry units and designed to deal with armored vehicles.

A night owl lifted the front and rear protective seals, and pointed at the butcher who was temporarily surrounded by the moment through the shimmer sight.

The firing mechanism was plucked, and in the aluminum alloy Jinwuduri nozzle, the hollow charge armor-piercing projectile under the copper-aluminum composite medicine form cover was ready to fire.

The rocket, which was thick at the front and thin at the back, pulled out a clear tail flame in the air and hit the target with an initial velocity of nearly 300 meters per second.

Contact, cauterization, armor piercing, even 400 mm rolled unalloyed armor can be torn apart by rockets, and after penetrating the crop, the charge can burst out with high temperatures, high pressures, and a wide range of lethal metal fragments.

No one could survive the M136-AT4's frontal bombardment - if he did, he wouldn't be human.

The night owls thought so, so they aimed at the smoky field and fired three more rockets.

Ridiculously speaking, the purchase price of this entire M136 rocket launcher is less than $1,500, and even with rockets and ammunition, it cannot be compared with a slightly more high-end sedan.

And the night owl assassins killed by these rockets cost a hundred times and a thousand times more than the former.

"Is he dead?"

The Assassins communicated in the communication channels, keeping a close eye on the noisy snow.