This Game Is Too Real Chapter 90: Art is an Explosion!

It was eleven o’clock at night.

The heavy snow had paused for a brief mont.

In the pitch darkness, players carrying weapons fanned out in an arc in the forest, shoveling the ground with their shovels to dig dugouts, simple trenches; they worked at a swift pace.

"Thrilling! I just entered the ga not long ago and already, two big team battles back to back!"

"Later, no one fight for it, I want to kill ten!"

"Damn, I better stay away from you. Don’t use to pad your numbers."

"Am I that kind of person?"

"Who knows."

No one was panicked, only excited as if on a rush of adrenaline.

This ga was so lifelike it perfectly set the atmosphere.

It was almost like a real battle!

The rustling in the woods covered up the players whispering in hushed tones.

Fully ard, Chu Guang stood with a hamr, his hands crossed over the end of the handle, his dark pupils staring intently towards the north.

He was taking a bet.

He bet that Hain had sided with his own interests and had successfully convinced the leader of the Blood Hand Clan to advance under the cover of darkness, splitting so forces off toward the small river in the northwest.

Of course, Chu Guang had also prepared for the worst-case scenario: if Hain had sided with morality and chosen to help a forr trading partner, then Chu Guang would have to face the main force of the Blood Hand Clan head-on.

That would be a bitter fight between equally matched opponents.

But he was not worried.

Even if it were one for one, his side would co out ahead.

At that mont, a player with heightened perception ran over from a distance and reported excitedly to Chu Guang.

"Respected Manager, the forces of the Blood Hand Clan have left their camp and are advancing in our direction!"

Chu Guang felt a surge of joy.

However, he did not let his emotions show on his face. Instead, he composed himself and said,

"Are the props all set up?"

"All preparations are complete!"

"Good, issue my orders, all squads act according to the plan!"

"Yes!"

The player snapped to attention, his right fist to his chest, and excitedly went off.

Just thinking about the "props" set up nearby made him unbearably thrilled.

This was just too exciting!

...

North Gate of Wetland Park.

A dense crowd stood there.

Most of them were clad in beast skin coats, with makeshift tal, wood, or leather guards strapped to vital areas, and blood-red patterns tattooed on their arms, necks, and faces; the array of weapons they carried was even more diverse.

Although they looked more like a ragtag army of thugs, both in temperant and attire, in reality, their combat power was not as weak as it seed.

Each person here was a battle-hardened veteran, an elite warrior of the Blood Hand Clan!

The Bear, clad in heavy armor, sat atop a rhinoceros with a nose ring, shouldering a double-barreled shotgun, squinting his eyes as he looked toward the dark forest.

At the entrance of that forest, there stood a sign with a skull painted on it, on which was sloppily written—

[Private property, no trespassing. Trespassers take full responsibility for their consequences.]

A playful smirk curved the corners of the Bear’s mouth; he threw a glance at a lackey beside him.

The Looter understood and imdiately stepped forward with an axe, swinging it down in a clean chop that cleaved the sign in two.

"Let’s bring destruction over their heads!"

"Everybody, advance!"

The Bear let out a hearty laugh, flapping his huge hand forward, kicking the mutant rhinoceros beneath him, leading the way for the column.

The rhinoceros began moving forward with heavy steps, and at the sa ti, the fifty-five Looters following beside him, led by five Centurions, pressed forward.

At that point, sothing crossed the Bear’s mind, and he called out to his confidant walking beside him.

The man’s na was "Horse," with a long face resembling that of a horse, standing nearly two ters tall, towering over the surrounding lackeys; he was the most valiant Centurion under the Bear’s command.

Looking down at him, the Bear instructed,

"You take your n west to storm the riverside brick kiln, capture any prisoners you can. If you can’t catch them, drive them south, we’ll et you there."

Martial embraced his fists and accepted the command.

"Yes!"

Having said that, the Centurion didn’t hesitate and imdiately led his ten subordinates to quicken their pace towards the west.

Eleven people.

The cover of night was more than enough to launch a surprise attack on a camp.

Afterward, Bear turned to the remaining subordinates, his face revealing a cruel smile.

"We’ll go south."

"Go ahead and wait for them!"

...

Although the heavy snow had eased up a bit, the chill in the forest had not dissipated, especially when the north wind blew through the trees, making a rustling sound that always kept one’s nerves on edge.

Martial dared not take any orders assigned personally by the leader lightly. He moved quickly towards the river to the west while being cautious of threats in the forest.

Fortunately.

There were no ambushes.

Perhaps just as the rchant had said, these uncivilized survivors were holding an open-air eting in their camp, completely unaware that death was approaching.

At the edge of the forest, the flickering campfire could be seen.

A group of Looters quickened their pace toward the glow.

Soon, they found a row of shacks built along the riverbank on the southwest side of the river.

The entrance to the shacks was covered with a plastic tarp, obscuring the view inside, but axes and shovels, the tools for clearing land, were placed at the entrances.

In the center of the shacks was a stone-encircled fire pit, with recently gnawed bones scattered around it.

Looking at the camp before him, Martial’s face slowly showed a cruel smile; he loaded his iron pipe rifle and fitted a bayonet in the slot under the barrel.

"We’ll sneak in quietly, no one make a sound."

"Try not to use guns if you can."

"If anyone resists, stab them to death!"

Upon receiving their leader’s instructions, the Looters either fixed bayonettes to their rifles or drew hamrs and short spears from their waists, ready to slaughter the enemies in their sleep.

The group approached silently, soundlessly entered the camp, and, with an understanding among them, two n took a shack, controlling the entrances from the left and right.

As all shacks were under control, Martial raised his right fist, signaled the action, and the group worked together, lifting the shack’s door flaps with their bayonets—

Then.

Everyone was stunned.

There was nothing inside.

No, it wasn’t quite right to say there was nothing.

In almost every shack, there was a tin can coated with wood tar.

"Spread out!"

Martial’s face changed drastically as he was the first to realize the danger and shouted loudly.

However, it was still a step too late.

About a dozen fire arrows with flas attached, like locusts, flew from across the small river and landed one after another in the camp.

The plastic tarp on the shacks was ignited by the fire arrows, instantly shrinking into burning droplets and falling. Then, the cans wrapped in wood tar and the gunpowder inside were ignited.

Boom!!!

The chain of explosions that followed wreaked havoc in the camp. The Looters who had scattered to flee—half of them barely escaping—were swallowed by the dense smoke and the glare of the explosions.

Two Looters were blown to pieces on the spot!

The remaining nine, if not dead, were injured!

One unlucky soul caught by the splashed burning oil fell to the ground, rolling in agony, his mouth emitting wolf-like, ghostly howls.

The screams grew weaker and weaker, and soon there was no sound left.

Watching his subordinates each in pitiful states, and another taken away in an instant, Martial’s eyes bulged with blood vessels, almost biting his teeth to pieces, and he roared.

"You cowards! What skill is there in a sneak attack!"

"Co out and fight like a man!"

"Cough—"

The smoke got into his throat.

Ignoring the blood and flesh behind him, he buried his head and erged from the dense smoke, firing his rifle one round after another toward the opposite bank of the river.

Bang—!

Flas flickered, and gunfire erupted chaotically.

The remaining Looters also returned fire in the direction from which the arrows had co, but after a dozen shots, they hadn’t seen a single person, only watching arrows zip overhead.

Morale began to waver.

Not just Chu Guang was panicking; his n were too, starting to shoot as they retreated.

anwhile, the players lying in ambush on their west side were rubbing their hands with excitent, just waiting for the right mont to launch their attack.

"They’re panicking! They are panicking! Hahaha, they’re in a rush!"

"Elite down! Looks like a Centurion!"

"Damn, a Centurion! Charge! Brothers, take them alive!"

"For the spirit of charging into battle!"

"It’s do or die!"

"Long live Demacia!"

"For Crow’s mushroom soup!"

The players shouted out mixed gibberish as they excitedly erged from the nearby bushes, each chant as unique as their inherited skills.

At the sa ti, the players supporting from across the river stopped shooting arrows and promptly pulled out shovels, axes, and sickles, wading through the ankle-deep shallows to coordinate an encirclent from the opposite bank, joining the frenzy.

People were everywhere!

Gunshots, footfalls, and battle cries filled the air, surging forward under the cover of night. They had no idea how many there were or where they were coming from.

Looters who had just erged from the light of the fire and dashed into the forest felt like their eyes were sared with ink, seeing nothing.

Chu Guang struggled with a jamd gun, ejecting the stuck shell while bellowing orders to his n.

"Retreat! Head south!"

A sliver of rationality told Chu Guang that their only chance of survival was to rendezvous with the main force to the south.

However.

Could soone else not predict what even he could?

The line of defense against the main force was to the south if they ran through the burning camp to the north, there was still a slim chance of escape, but running south was like charging bare-faced into a trench!

Just as Chu Guang and his followers were being struck head-on, the elite of the Blood Hand Clan, advancing toward Outpost Base, also heard explosions from the northwest.

"What’s going on?"

"It seems to be coming from the direction of the brick kiln by the river..."

"Could it be, could it be that sothing happened to Chu Guang’s group?!"

"No way, that’s Chu Guang... I saw him tear apart an Eater with his bare hands!"

The Looters exchanged glances and whispered among themselves.

Instinct told them that the five consecutive explosions were a bit off.

Bear frowned as he looked towards the northwest, his expression uncertain.

Chu Guang was his trusted man, and he knew the equipnt of his followers well; none of theirs could make such a sound.

In that case, there was only one possibility!

"Damn it! Everyone, move towards the northwest!" Bear, both anxious and angry, kicked the mutated rhino in the belly, spurring it on with a roar.

"Run for it!"

"Faster!"

The deaths of Badger and Chi weren’t enough to grieve him, but if Chu Guang also perished, not only would the Blood Hand Clan suffer a major blow, but his own prestige in the tribe would plumt.

There was no ti to worry about formations now. Looters didn’t have a habit of marching in lines anyway; once they started running, the ranks quickly stretched out.

The other four Centurions felt sothing was wrong, but at this mont, they dared not object, only gritting their teeth and urging the stragglers to keep up.

A distance of less than six hundred ters for support was a matter of minutes, even if the forest terrain was inconvenient for running, still much better than the obstacles in the city.

The glow of the fire lood ever closer.

Even from afar, the blinding blaze conveyed a terrifying heat.

"Damn it! Haven’t you eaten? Run, damn you!"

Still not having caught sight of Chu Guang and only seeing the rising inferno, Bear couldn’t contain his fury, cursing as he urged his n to speed up.

The n begrudgingly complied, sprinting with their weapons although the enemy was nowhere to be seen.

Bear raised the double-barreled shotgun in his hands and led the charge.

However, just then, in the mud illuminated by the firelight, he suddenly saw faces peeking out.

Pairs of eyes seed to glow green, causing even the fearless Bear to panic for a millisecond.

"Fire!"

A harsh shout ca.

Though he couldn’t understand what those two modulated syllables ant, his combat instincts nonetheless made him flip off his mount, his robust body tumbling behind a tree root as thick as a python.

The sound of gunfire like thunderclaps suddenly erupted, continuously cracking in the air, the flashing muzzle flashes seeming to surround them from all directions, like the whistling ’whoosh whoosh whoosh’ of lightning in the sky.

Fear gripped Bear’s heart.

For a mont, he couldn’t discern how many rifles were on the other side; he just saw his brothers in arms getting caught off guard during their charge, falling one after another.

It was unclear whether they were taking cover or being mowed down by gunfire.

"Damn it! We’ve been ambushed!"

"The first thing I’m doing when I get back is chopping that Hain into pieces!!!"

"First, let’s talk about getting back..."

"Shit! How many rifles do they have over there?!"

"How do I feel like there’s at least two machine guns!"

"Ahh ahh ahh!"

Hearing the scared voices of his brothers beside him, Bear was beside himself with panic.

The mount that had charged toward the enemy’s position had been shot dead, its body lying motionless next to a tree so twenty ters away, its bullet holes indiscernible.

Bear didn’t dare poke his head out to look; he didn’t dare gamble on the marksmanship of the enemy with his own head.

But once he caught his breath and listened calmly to the sounds of whooshing overhead, he sensed sothing was amiss.

How to put this.

The thunder and lightning were not matching up!

In an instant, he regained his senses and shouted in alarm and anger,

"No, this isn’t right! This isn’t gunfire! This... This is!"

Bear wanted to say sothing, but couldn’t rember what that thing was called.

In fact, he guessed right; it really wasn’t gunfire, just a couple of homade firecrackers made from waste paper, gunpowder, and brick powder.

In an age where people were struggling even to eat, who would have fireworks for fun? Not recognizing this stuff was normal.

However, one has to admit that in the dark environnt, when the firecrackers were set off between rifle shots, they indeed had a deceiving effect.

The Looters, panting as they ran, hadn’t seen where the enemy was but were t with such a blow; they were all stupefied, incapable of realizing that the enemy was using deception.

Lying prone on the ground, they felt as if two machine guns had been brought up against them, ’rat-tat-tat’ firing at them.

Especially when their comrades were falling one after another, they couldn’t clearly see who had been hit. One by one they were scared stiff by the mixture of gunfire and firecrackers; they didn’t even dare lift their heads, much less return fire.

Moreover, they were fighting against the light...

While the four Looter squads were left utterly bewildered by the barrage, players crouching on both flanks of the trench had left their cover, using the sound of gunfire to envelop the Looters from both sides.

Seeing motion towards the flanks of their own position from the corner of his eye, Bear let out an angry roar.

"They’ve split up their forces!"

"Everyone charge!"

"Stop lying on the fucking ground; those aren’t real gunshots! Everyone, follow , charge into their trench, and smash their heads with the butt of your guns!"

He yelled his lungs out, but not a single person heeded him.

Consecutive ambushes had already brought the morale of these ragtag troops to the brink of collapse.

Despair suddenly surged in Bear’s heart.

Perhaps...

Leaving the city to enter the enemy’s ho turf was a mistake from the start.

"Boss... the firepower on the other side is too fierce; charging now is suicide!"

"Fuck their firepower! Can’t you hear it?! It’s fake!" Rage burned in his chest, Bear almost biting his gums until they bled.

But he knew, at this mont, no matter how loud he yelled, there weren’t many who could hear him, and even fewer who wanted to listen.

Knowing the battle was lost, he turned to the east side, made up his mind, and ordered a few of his confidants beside him,

"We can only wait for death here; we’ll break out toward the east side!"

A few confidants nodded tensely.

However, just as Bear was about to elaborate on his breakout plan, a series of piercing howls ca from the western position.

Bear looked up only to see lines of fla cleaving the darkness, pushing fist-sized rockets that fell from the night sky upon them.

Boisterous laughter ca from afar.

Although he couldn’t understand it, he faintly heard a hoarse tenor,

"Hahaha... haha."

"Art——is an explosion!"