"Give the order, Commander."
Three factions have already gathered together.
Tonight's war can be said to be overwhelmingly smooth.
The place with the most casualties might be the forr allies in the east; they fought amongst themselves over the Wenster typewriters and even killed several of their own.
Trafford looked at the gathered forces, with only the Sanctuary left in front, and felt a surge of heroism within.
The matter is finally coming to an end, and he will be reborn amidst this storm.
"Want one?"
Travis lit a cigarette for himself and ca to Trafford's side, then asked.
"I'll take one."
At this mont, Trafford beca very tolerant, even smoking a cigarette with Travis.
Travis handed the cigarette to Trafford, thoughtfully shielding it from the wind so the fla wouldn't blow out.
He took a deep puff of his cigarette.
Trafford nodded to those behind him.
It's ti to launch the final assault.
"Charge!"
The forr allies were the most excited; they had just seized many Wenster typewriters and couldn't wait for more spoils.
They rushed ahead of the others toward the Sanctuary.
As a result, they were greeted by extrely dense gunfire.
Inside the Sanctuary, a large number of gunn were still deployed.
This was the Martinos Clan's last defense line, and the intensive gunfire initially caused enough casualties.
Those mbers of the forr allies, eager to acquire more benefits, died directly in the gunfire.
Travis rely flashed a contemptuous smile.
The people the forr allies had sent today weren't heavyweight enough; otherwise, they wouldn't have fought among themselves for spoils.
Old Xi Wen, that old fox, is still holed up in his lair, unwilling to co out.
Well then, let more of his people die.
After several waves of people were repelled, with dozen more dead and wounded, the forr allies finally dared not act rashly.
"Weren't we supposed to attack? Why aren't we moving together?"
The forr allies began to complain.
Trafford glanced at Travis.
Travis helplessly shook his head, then took off his cowboy hat and gently brushed the dust off his clothes.
In the next mont.
The Western gang's forces sprang into action.
Still gunfire.
But facing this gunfire, the Western gang mbers showed no fear, even when hit by bullets, they continued moving forward.
That is the power of the West.
Ignoring death.
"Alright, let's all go."
By this ti, Trafford didn't want to wait any longer; he had to resolve the fight quickly, having a nagging feeling about the wind.
With the Kingdom Defense Bureau's people intervening,
Suddenly, the firepower inside the Sanctuary beca insufficient.
Too many enforcers were setting rules, causing the power of the firearms to continuously drop.
And the gunn belonging to the Kingdom Defense Bureau were slowly approaching the Sanctuary.
They held hand cannons.
Even if they couldn't directly blast open the Sanctuary, they could definitely breach the doors.
"Prepare to face the final battle."
Vasini stood up, grabbing a Wenster typewriter and continued firing outside.
Valentino joined in.
Even though bullets hardly had any effect outside anymore.
Then shoot the last bullet dry.
As the guns nearly overheated and blew out, the gunn belonging to the Kingdom Defense Bureau finally approached the door.
Vasini discarded the Wenster typewriter, regaining control over Throat-Cutter Neil.
"Valentino, if you haven't said your last words, go say them to your daughter."
Anyway, he had no regrets left.
In the next mont.
Enemies fully reached the entrance.
"I told you a long ti ago."
Valentino did not retreat.
He seed to want to raise his gun to fire a burst outside.
But at that mont, the ground suddenly shook.
Then, extrely thick vines surged out from the ground, instantly entangling the forefront of those outside.
"It's now!"
Vasini's Throat-Cutter Neil struck again, swiftly taking down the Kingdom Defense Bureau mber closest to the door.
"What's going on?"
Trafford frowned, clearly the opposition should belong entirely to the Destruction God's true na system, how could vines suddenly appear, which should be a True Nar of the Earth's power...?
But, it doesn't matter, even if there is one more True Nar of the Earth, what difference does it make?
We have enough people.
The wind rose again, blowing from their sides and behind simultaneously.
"Push harder…"
He wanted to shout for more effort.
However, a sound drowned out his voice.
The gunfire.
The sound of gunfire, along with the wind, blew from behind.
How could this be?
Impossible!
All of the South District is under their encirclent; no one else could possibly get in.
"No firearms allowed here!"
He first shouted, his reaction fairly quick.
No matter a rear assault, it's only so Wenster typewriters.
Useless, useless…
"Ugh…"
"I've been shot!"
"Take cover quickly!"
How could this be…
It shouldn't happen.
Clearly, he had set the rules, theoretically, bullets shouldn't be able to harm his n anymore.
But bullets still accurately pierced into the bodies of those beside him.
And the number of people hit kept increasing.
"Two hundred ters behind!"
In such circumstances, it's impossible to ignore the people behind any longer, no matter where they ca from. "Travis, you take your n and hold on, charge ahead, I'll handle the rear."
Trafford imdiately assigned Travis to hold the front line; he still had to preserve his n.
These n, they were elite mbers of the Kingdom Defense Bureau; if too many died, he would bear enormous responsibility.
"No problem, Commander."
Travis said, but he glanced back, feeling things were starting to go wrong.
With Travis taking over, Trafford finally had the focus to fully confront the unexpected guests from behind.
He squinted his eyes and finally saw clearly the faces of these people.
They were all dressed in pitch-black trenchcoats and wore sunken brims on their hats; their faces were unfamiliar, not a single familiar visage.
Their aura was also strange, not the kind of scent that should belong to the Royal Capital, carrying a hint of sea breeze mixed with coldness.
A man leading them possessed the most resolute gaze, amidst the wind, like a fla, burning everything in its path.
His face, Trafford suddenly felt reminiscent.
"Still stunned? Try this!"
The man suddenly tossed sothing, looking like a grenade or perhaps sothing else.
In the next mont, an abrupt flash of light almost deprived everyone of their senses.
The wind grew stronger.
In such a howl, Trafford seed to vaguely hear sothing.
Almost like the man was shouting: "Welco to Wenster! The Bolita Clan sends its greetings!"
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