Black Sail
Chapter 521: CL. East Sea Invasion

Chapter 521: CL. East Sea Invasion

An outpost occupied by the Aran Army, surrounded by villages and towns for convenient resupply.

Morison and a hundred troops are attacking here, already in the final stage.

Previously, the Resistance Army in Drifting City had already informed them that the Aran Army possessed very powerful and advanced firepower, with rapid-firing firearms and extremely fast shooting speeds.

The Resistance Army had also captured quite a lot. Although they couldn’t provide Black Sail with a gun for everyone, they did supply four hundred rapid-fire rifles and twenty boxes of ammunition.

Morison did not expect to be able to upgrade his equipment in this foreign country.

The Maple Forest obtained from the Energy Department, Morison was reluctant to use it. Cutting down some minor soldiers with such weak means felt idiotic and using it could shorten one’s life. But he himself also studied the rapid-fire rifle and revolver.

Feeling just okay, barely usable, but to ordinary people, it was divine equipment. Even an idiot holding it could probably reach the level of a Gold Level adventurer.

"How many men died?"

Morison crouched down, using a dirt wall as a cover, and asked the lieutenant of this operation.

He had never experienced a proper battle before. But chopping people down, there wasn’t much difference.

"Six brothers couldn’t be saved, and over ten more were injured."

The lieutenant had a troubled expression.

This outpost had only about thirty army soldiers in total, and to have such casualties even in a surprise attack was unreasonable.

But the enemy’s main forces were eliminated, leaving seven or eight soldiers still stubbornly resisting around the watchtower.

Small crybabies are not suited for war.

These pirates aim for big money and are willing to accept the risk. If they lose their lives, it’s considered a gratifying death.

Hooligans can do without a complete system, but a behemoth like Black Sail must have one. The pension system is already very comprehensive, seemingly costing money, but in reality, it stimulates the overall subjective initiative in combat, with potential benefits far greater.

The truth often defies common sense.

Morison didn’t really understand. Anyway, just showing off would be enough.

"No big deal, once you return from Mulong, you guys will all be goddamn bosses."

Morison casually said.

After the new area was completed, the Mirror Sea over at Ox was set up, and Liszt’s protection fee buyout system was implemented. The Western Continent hadn’t been negotiated yet, but there were prospects in the Far East. No more pirate raids, a full sense of security, promoting trade on both sides. During the chaotic times of Doringger, no one dared to venture to the East Sea. Actually, many wealthy people curious about unexplored lands were eager to vacation there, and the mysterious Far East was even more attractive to them.

Directly into the Universe CBD, Sleepless City in the East Sea, with countless places available for bidding when outsiders come to lease land or rent shops, Black Sail would definitely operate a portion of it directly.

Just like those lousy pirates who once blocked secret ports to rob trains, now they’d become slick middle management. These pirates coming to Mulong, as long as they survive, would become the backbones of Black Sail.

The lieutenant felt motivated and excited hearing this. Heaven Port, once a dream-like spending pit, now post-upgrade, living as a wealthy lord would be a godlike life.

He got fired up.

"Damn Aran dogs, fuck your ancestors, give me a straightforward answer, surrender or not. Now we can still not kill you."

The lieutenant shouted at the army soldiers hiding around the watchtower’s cover.

However, there was no response from the other side.

The lieutenant was about to lead a charge.

Morison stopped him.

Unnecessary casualties should be minimized. The enemy’s firepower could no longer cover them. Morison intended to handle it himself.

"All of you, don’t move."

Morison handed his rapid-fire rifle to the lieutenant. He didn’t need it. Frankly, such a firearm was cumbersome. Though it was rapid-fire with significant power, it wasn’t enough for his level.

What he pursued was ultimate flexibility and speed. The revolver could be kept. With six bullets loaded, this gun was said to have rifling craftsmanship for better accuracy, hopefully better than the Five-eyed Gun custom-made in Londen City.

One hand holding a machete unique to Mulong, the left hand holding the revolver, he quickly stood up, exposing himself.

Da-da-da...

Rapid-fire from the rifle burst out.

Virgil, commonly known as Little Morison.

The machete spun incredibly fast, deflecting all the bullets. The continuous metallic clash slightly vibrated the eardrums.

"Really need to get better weapons."

Morison looked at his dented, still-smoking machete. Fortunately, it was not destroyed yet. He then quickly stomped forward into the battle zone.

The other pirates provided covering fire, sharing the firepower with Morison.

All bullets aimed at Morison were deflected by the spinning machete, and Morison stood on the rooftop, having located all the enemies.

The machete was held reverse-handed, and his index finger swiftly flicked the hammer of the revolver to maximize its performance. The semi-mechanical firing was faster than the rapid-fire rifle.

In less than half a second, six shots were fired. The revolver showed signs of metal fatigue and smoke overload.

Six Aran soldiers were instantly killed, all shot in the forehead, with blood oozing from their foreheads.

One Aran soldier remained, about thirty meters away from Morison. Seeing Morison’s revolver was out of bullets, he fired a full magazine of twenty rounds at Morison’s back.

Morison’s cracked crocodile leather jacket had many mechanisms inside. One might call it semi-metallic. He lifted the hem to shield his head, and the machete spun wildly.

Blocking all shots, almost ruining the machete, which was now full of dents and dings, it was just scrap metal at this point, incapable of cutting anyone anymore.

"Damn! Damn it!"

The Aran soldier didn’t know what kind of monster he was facing and started to panic as he tried to reload, accidentally dropping the magazine on the ground.

Morison was somewhat speechless, but leisurely loaded a bullet into the revolver, using the half-ruined machete as a mirror to see the soldier about thirty meters behind him.

"Let me see, your heart is on the left, but in the mirror, it’s on the right. We are both facing the same direction, and the gun is upside down. Don’t be too flashy..."

In the instant the Aran soldier loaded the magazine.

Bang!

His heart was shot, and he collapsed powerlessly.

"Watch out! Above!"

The lieutenant yelled. There was one last enemy at the top of the watchtower, seemingly a signalman, pointing a gun at Morison.

Click!

A flying knife, like a bed crossbow, shot out, piercing through the neck, hauling the body out of the watchtower with the sheer inertia, falling from over ten meters high, landing with a dull thud, separating the head entirely. His vibrant lungs still contracting, the neck wound bubbling with blood.

The people on Black Sail’s side were all stunned. So damn cool. No wonder these Black Sail guys managed to overthrow Doringger.

At this point, the outpost’s soldiers were all eliminated.

But Morison didn’t mind at all. This was expected. The main act hadn’t started yet. Crocodile Island and those Generals and main forces were the real challenge.

"Clean up here, collect all usable guns and ammunition. I’ll take some men to interface with the villagers nearby. This place has a new owner now."

Morison ordered.

Ten minutes later.

Morison entered the village, but door after door was shut tight. The villagers shunned both the Aran Army and the Resistance as if they were the plague.

"This is really troublesome."

Morison kicked in the door of one house casually.

Inside the house, a simple wooden frame supported a boiler, something cooking over a wood fire, giving off an unpleasant smell.

In the corner sat a gaunt woman wearing a headscarf, skin darkened, with prominently protruding collarbones and cheekbones, looking like skin clung to bones.

She was feeding her child.

Upon Morison’s entry, the baby started crying, and the woman covered its mouth tightly, looking at Morison with terror.

"What a damn mess."

Morison muttered, speechless.