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墨書 Inktalez
As the last team member climbed over the wall, the entire squad quickly gathered behind it. Their movements were silent, with only the faint sound of weapons and gear clinking in the darkness. Each person skillfully drew their weapon from their waist, the blades glinting coldly in the night and reflecting the distant flames, resembling the teeth of a beast waiting to strike.
Yan Kong stood at the forefront of the group, his hand tightly gripping his Katana, its blade slightly trembling as if even the air sensed its murderous intent. His gaze was stern as he surveyed the faces of his teammates. Their eyes were focused and resolute, showing no sign of fear; these were Wu Jing's most elite warriors, ready to follow Yan Kong into this deadly assault.
Bending slightly, Yan Kong pointed with the tip of his blade towards a nearby tower. The flickering lights there cast shadows of soldiers occasionally appearing by the windows, each level of the tower exuding an oppressive aura, as if it were the very heart of the Frontline.
Without needing further words, the team members nodded in unison, gripping their weapons tighter; knives, grappling hooks, and explosives were all prepared. They understood that this operation allowed for no failure—there was no retreat.
Yan Kong took a deep breath and raised his hand to signal everyone to lower their stances. His gaze swept over the squad one last time before he charged out from behind cover without hesitation, moving like a gust of wind. The team followed closely behind, their steps light and swift, like a silent ghost squad heading straight for the tower.
Illuminated by firelight, their blades gleamed like bloodied cold iron, flashing with deadly brilliance. Their steps were synchronized; not a single person lagged behind, even their breathing was perfectly coordinated. The entire squad moved like a drawn sword, unstoppable in its lethal intent.
As they closed in on their target, the outline of the tower became clearer, and enemy voices gradually reached their ears. Yet they did not slow down; instead, they quickened their pace, each step building momentum for the impending slaughter. They knew that this moment of silence and concealment was crucial for their success.
The night concealed everything as the assault team moved silently closer to their target—the tower. However, just as they turned a corner, they unexpectedly collided with a Yang Chuan Patrol Team. Armed with firearms and appearing somewhat relaxed, they were completely unprepared to encounter enemies here.
In an instant of confrontation, a cold glint flashed in Yan Kong's eyes; there was not even half a second of hesitation. **Slash!** The blade was already unsheathed, its action faster than any command from his mind—an instinctive response. The sharp edge carved a deadly arc through the air as it swiftly cut open the throat of the first Patrolling Soldier, blood spraying against the wall like a fountain.
The Patrol Team's captain grasped at his waist for his weapon but had no time to draw it before Yan Kong's blade accurately pierced his chest. Shock and fear still lingered on his face as he collapsed with a thud.
The remaining members of the Patrol Team finally reacted and attempted to raise their weapons but found themselves perpetually one step too slow. Yan Kong moved among them like a swift specter; each swing of his blade claimed another life.
The sound of steel slicing through flesh echoed clearly in the night. Blood splattered onto the ground and walls, mingling with metallic clangs and brief cries of anguish. Every movement from Yan Kong was rapid and precise—there was no wasted motion—as if his blade had been born solely for slaughter.
In less than a second, the eleven members of the Patrol Team lay sprawled on the ground, their bodies scattered and blood slowly pooling into a thin, red line. The narrow corner had instantly transformed into a small slaughterhouse, as if the Grim Reaper had descended.
Yan Kong stood at the center of the corpses, his face betraying no emotion, only the cold glint in his eyes flickering. He casually flicked his blade to shake off the blood, then sheathed it with a fluid motion, as natural as breathing.
The team members behind him witnessed everything in silence, not a sound escaping their lips. They simply followed Yan Kong’s lead, their gazes filled with awe and shock. They understood that this battle required no words; Yan Kong had become an embodiment of pure slaughter, and their mission was to follow in the wake of his blade straight to victory.
The Assault Team swiftly approached the entrance of the target tower, their steps light yet steady. They moved like a silent current, carrying lethal pressure toward the enemy. Two Yangchuan Soldiers stood guard at the tower's entrance, rifles in hand, scanning their surroundings with vigilance. However, before they could react, two precise energy blasts shot forth, instantly piercing through their helmets.
"Boom! Boom!" The dull explosions echoed as the two guards stiffened momentarily before collapsing lifelessly to the ground, their rifles clattering against the stone steps. Blood trickled down the stairs, filling the air with a metallic scent.
Yan Kong showed no signs of hesitation; he strode forward and forcefully pushed open the heavy door. The steel hinges creaked loudly as light spilled out from within, illuminating the faces of the Assault Team. Yet what awaited them was not an empty corridor but a squad of fully armed Yangchuan Soldiers.
"Damn it!" Yan Kong growled, his gaze slicing through the ranks of soldiers preparing for battle. These men were clearly ready; their weapons shimmered with energy as they aimed directly at the doorway, tension thickening in the air.
The time for hiding was over; guerrilla tactics were no longer applicable against such defensive strength. The only choice now was to confront them head-on. Yan Kong tightened his grip on the hilt of his blade, battle fervor igniting in his eyes as he bared his teeth and shouted, "Let’s go! Annihilate them!"
Before his words faded, he charged forward, his blade carving a fierce arc through the air with deadly intent aimed straight at the enemy ranks. His speed was like lightning; before the first Yangchuan Soldier could pull the trigger, Yan Kong's blade had already sliced through his throat, blood spraying forth like a fountain.
"Kill!" Yan Kong's roar echoed through the narrow floors, stirring the bloodlust within the Assault Team members. They followed closely behind him, raising their weapons as they plunged into the enemy ranks, blades and energy gunfire intertwining in a dazzling display of sparks.
The interior of the tower instantly transformed into a battlefield filled with cries of slaughter, explosions, and clashing weapons. The Yangchuan Soldiers fought fiercely to resist, but the Fog City Assault Team's assault came like a torrential storm, swiftly tearing open a gap in their defenses.
Yan Kong's blade seemed to possess a life of its own; each swing claimed another life. His focus remained solely on the enemies ahead as he moved like a killing machine—swift and merciless. The team followed closely behind him, coordinating their attacks to gradually push the Yangchuan Soldiers deeper into the tower.
The fierce battle filled the entire floor with a heavy scent of blood, the ground littered with enemy corpses and shattered weapons. Yan Kong's armor was stained with blood, yet he showed no signs of hesitation. With a piercing gaze, he led his team step by step toward the heart of the tower.
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