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墨書 Inktalez
Yan Kong's blade was like the Grim Reaper's scythe, cutting down every enemy that came his way. Blood splattered across his armor, droplets flying from the blade with each swing, leaving streaks of crimson on the walls and floor. For him, this battle had ceased to be an attack; it had become a massacre.
"Lord Yan Kong!" shouted the captain of the Assault Team, his voice cutting through the chaos of gunfire and shouts. The captain's face was smeared with blood, but his gaze was resolute. He waved to the other team members and called out, "We'll hold the rear here! You go ahead!"
Yan Kong turned sharply, glancing at the captain and the determined faces of the Assault Team members. No further words were needed; everyone understood that this was an action that would cost lives. The Assault Team erupted into a thunderous roar of battle cries, charging fearlessly toward the oncoming Yangchuan Soldiers, their blades and firearms glinting with deadly intent.
Taking a deep breath, Yan Kong shook off the blood from his blade and sheathed it. His expression hardened as he turned toward the staircase leading to the tower. His footsteps were swift, the soles of his shoes striking against the blood-soaked floor with urgent sounds, while the gunfire and explosions gradually faded behind him.
Just as he was about to turn the corner and ascend the stairs, a deafening barrage of gunfire suddenly erupted. A hail of energy projectiles rained down like a storm, ricocheting off walls and floors, sparking blinding flashes. Yan Kong quickly halted, diving into cover at the corner of the staircase, pressing his body against the wall as his breath quickened.
Peering cautiously around the corner, he saw a heavy Machine Gun Tower set up at the top of the stairs, its muzzle flashing with fire as it unleashed a barrage that blocked the entire entrance. Behind the gun tower, a Yangchuan Soldier calmly operated the weapon, his gaze cold and focused, seemingly in complete control of this area.
"Damn Machine Gun Tower..." Yan Kong muttered under his breath, wiping sweat and blood from his face. He knew that any rash movement in front of such firepower would be suicidal. Gripping his knife tightly, he took a deep breath and quickly considered ways to break through. Time was pressing; every second counted for the success or failure of this operation.
Leaning against cover, Yan Kong's eyes scanned the ground until they caught sight of a blood-stained blade lying quietly not far away. Without hesitation, he reached for it, lightly brushing his fingers over its hilt before raising his gaze to the wall at the corner of the staircase.
The Brain-Computer activated instantly, its visual system calculating reflection angles as virtual lines flickered in his vision, precisely mapping out every possible ricochet path. Data rapidly aggregated, revealing an optimal solution clearly in his mind. His hand steadied like iron tongs as he focused intently on this information.
"Alright, this time I must hit my mark..." Yan Kong silently vowed to himself, taking another deep breath before raising the blade with lethal determination gleaming in his eyes.
With a swift flick of his wrist, he released the blade into the air with a sharp whoosh. It hurtled toward the wall at incredible speed; upon contact with the surface, it produced a crisp metallic clang before ricocheting off directly toward the Main Gunner behind the Machine Gun Tower.
Thud! The blade plunged deep into the Main Gunner's neck before he could even cry for help; all that escaped him was a brief gasp of agony as he collapsed beside the Machine Gun Tower, blood splattering across the control panel.
Yan Kong's eyes flashed with cold light as he charged out from his cover without hesitation, pouncing towards the top of the stairs like a fierce tiger. His speed was as swift as the wind; just as Vice Gunner reached for the gun handle, he had not yet adjusted his aim when Yan Kong's blade sliced through the air.
"Thud!" The blade pierced accurately into Vice Gunner's chest, driving deep until the hilt, causing his body to stiffen abruptly, his eyes dimming in an instant before he collapsed helplessly.
Without pausing, Yan Kong turned to face the still slightly trembling Machine Gun Tower. He gripped the knife tightly with both hands and swung it down forcefully, the blade carrying his fury and sharpness as it struck fiercely at the core of the Machine Gun Tower. "Bang!" Sparks flew, accompanied by the sound of metal shattering, as the core structure of the Machine Gun Tower was completely destroyed, its barrel falling to the ground with thick smoke rising from the break.
Looking at the debris and the enemy's corpse before him, Yan Kong quickly adjusted his breathing and sheathed his blade, his murderous intent still undiminished. He knew that time was of the essence; the core layer of the tower lay ahead. Shaking off the blood on his hands, he resumed his pace, striding deeper into the second floor.
As Yan Kong stepped onto the second floor, the heavy armor he wore emitted a low grinding sound with each movement. His gaze swiftly scanned the surroundings; this level was more spacious than he had anticipated. Dim lights flickered on either side of the corridor walls, casting wavering shadows across their surfaces. Several doors were tightly shut, their panels covered in dust, clearly indicating that few had come and gone here. The silence contrasted sharply with the carnage below, only faint sounds of fighting and screams from downstairs reminding him that battle still raged on.
Yan Kong did not let this quiet slow his steps; each stride was steady and vigilant, the sound of his armored boots echoing in the corridor. With one hand firmly gripping his knife handle, he raised his other hand slightly to tap on the control panel of his Brain-Computer, activating the Enhanced Visual System.
As the system powered up, his vision rapidly transformed; ordinary corridor walls were replaced by a red-orange glow from thermal imaging. Everything within the rooms became clearly visible as vague outlines of heat sources emerged behind walls like still flames flickering. He paused momentarily to carefully observe each outline's position and posture, quickly forming a plan of action in his mind.
Taking a deep breath, Yan Kong mentally calculated distances and time. He knew there could be no hesitation at this moment; the longer he delayed, the more prepared his opponents would be. A glint of cold light flashed in his eyes as he tightened his grip on the knife and raised his leg to kick forcefully at the door before him.
"Bang!"
The door slammed heavily against the wall with a deafening crash, sending dust swirling into the air. Yan Kong's figure appeared in the doorway, his gaze slicing through the room like a blade as every detail rapidly registered in his mind.
In the center of the room stood a simple wooden chair upon which Commander Yang Chuan sat calmly. Dressed in light armor and wearing a long Daito at his waist, its scabbard glimmered faintly under dim light. His hands were folded neatly on his knees, resembling a statue frozen in time, completely unfazed by the door being kicked open.
The commander's gaze locked onto Yan Kong from the moment he stepped through the door. A faint smile graced his lips, exuding an indescribable calmness and disdain as if everything unfolding was well within his expectations.
On either side of the Commander, several Yangchuan Swordsmen knelt on the ground. Their hands rested flat on their knees, eyes closed, as if engaged in some form of meditation. Beside each of them lay a drawn sword, the cold gleam of the blades flickering under the light. Their breathing was steady and slow, perfectly matching the atmosphere of the room, as if this were a ritual long predetermined.
Yan Kong stood at the doorway, his sword half-drawn from its sheath. His gaze swept across the Commander's face before settling on the kneeling swordsmen. His nerves were taut, and he could almost hear his own heartbeat; a thick sense of murderous intent and oppression hung in the air.
The silence was suffocating. There were no unnecessary words or movements required. He understood that this moment of calm was merely the prelude to an impending storm, and everything that followed would be a true life-and-death confrontation. He tightened his grip on the hilt of his sword and cautiously stepped forward an inch, his eyes locked firmly on the Commander seated in the center.
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