Steampunk Era: Mad Abield
Chapter 878: Section 577: Plans and Changes (Part 1)_2

Chapter 878: Section 577: Plans and Changes (Part 1)_2

From the outside, the indoor height between their third floor and the ceiling should be around three and a half meters. Even if the domain includes the interior for about a meter, it wouldn’t encompass people.

Of course, this requires the troops to get closer first. They also indicated that if the stealth attack fails, they will start a forceful assault.

Although there are some doubts about whether a forceful assault would lead to heavy casualties, "mercy bears no command," so this is not something Malin needs to worry about.

In any case, this is a very good method, so Malin left it entirely up to them to handle.

The Archers were arranged in the Bell Tower, shooting from high to low, at a straight distance of less than five hundred meters. The snow was light, and there was no wind; the Sharpshooters said this was a very rare, excellent live-fire shooting environment.

Malin watched them enter their shooting positions. The Mages also activated the silence domain. The two-person-shooter teams were also very perfect, four targets being hit in the chest and head simultaneously. However, just as they fell, the flap leading downstairs from the rooftop also opened. From Malin’s height, he could see several people standing on the steps, looking at the targets inside the small building.

Then, the top Half-human scratched his head with some confusion.

Wow, the so-called best-laid plans often go awry—probably precisely what they meant by the situation now.

As Malin sighed, a shrill alarm sounded inside the small building.

Then, with the sound of cannon fire, Malin watched as the entire third floor along with the ceiling was blown away.

Damn, is this the backup plan that the four political commissars came up with? I’m going up there myself... wait, is someone jumping out the window?

Ah, quite decisive, Mr. Leader.

.......

Time goes back fifteen minutes.

The leader on the third floor put down his pen, and, for some reason, he couldn’t shake off an uneasy feeling.

This town was too quiet. Although he knew it was during curfew... why was there not even the sound of adults hitting children? Knowing that children are naturally active and curfew would prevent them from going outside, under such circumstances, these children would definitely ask their mothers, and the fathers, annoyed by the questioning... there would always be one or two who, in a fit of rage, would act.

So, why wasn’t there the sound of children being hit?

In such a quiet night, could every child truly be the so-called angel? Could every father really be the so-called saint?

Impossible, there must be something wrong.

But there were obviously no problems with the rooftop. If there were, those most reliable and oldest members of the Church would definitely sound the alarm.

If they don’t sound the alarm, then it’s certain that there are no problems around... So the question arises, why is this town so silent?

He got up and came to the window. From here, he could see that distant Bell Tower—supposedly built by the Dole Vince family in the past, a symbol of wealth. To think that, in the South, not even bigger cities might have a more beautiful Bell Tower.

It’s just a pity that the top of the Bell Tower had vanished, supposedly shattered during a previous battle. The middle-aged man had always thought it was the work of a High-Order Mage until he saw those four-legged machines and heard people in the town say it was these machines that shattered the top of the Bell Tower and killed everyone on it.

Carterburg’s army has this kind of equipment, almost no different from the old machines?

Truly frightening.

The middle-aged man looked towards the street, which was empty except for the light shining from people’s homes.

"We must speed up, it’s too dangerous here. After we finish tonight, we must leave. Staying in the town for a long time will arouse suspicion," he said, glancing at his deputy who nodded in agreement: "Yes, I think so too. I’ve observed those Patrol Teams; they are all Northerners. Previously, Malin from Carterburg bought a lot of serfs from the North and also recruited many bankrupt civilians. Thus, the troops he sent north are all Northerners without any problem of acclimatization. But what’s most important is that these Northern soldiers will only choose to be loyal to Malin because he is the one who gave them a way to live."

"I have the feeling that the royal house of the North is seeking its own end. But, as our teachings say, humans are always seeking their end, so there’s no need to care too much about it, my old friend." At this point, the middle-aged man noticed a dog appearing on the street.

His deputy also noticed the canine, both middle-aged men observing that it was circling the street with its tail between its legs, indecisive and seemingly frightened by something.

"Are there Spirits in the darkness?" The leader was somewhat puzzled—It wasn’t anything new for Spirits to creep into cities from god knows where; in his youth, he had encountered the atrocity of a Spirit entering a town and devouring a family of five.

"Unlikely, with so many people in the Carterburg Patrol Team, I don’t think there are any Spirits that could stand against them, not even different kind, so many Transcendent professions can’t possibly lose to one or two different kind, and if there were many, the recent detection would have definitely found something." His deputy expressed a completely different viewpoint.

Then, they saw a small Snow Leopard appear in the lit area, holding a chicken that belonged to who knows whom, and upon noticing the old dog, it growled softly at it.

The latter turned its head and ran off without a peep, while the small Snow Leopard clutched the chicken, glancing at them and then slipping back into the darkness.

"A small Spirit, looks like it got separated from its mother?" The deputy chuckled: "Quite amusing."

"I’ve never seen such a cowardly old dog in my life, must be a stray. If it were domesticated, it definitely wouldn’t just stand by."

"Certainly, stray dogs have their own survival strategies, it wouldn’t fight to the death with a small Spirit over a chicken."

The conversation ended there, and the middle-aged man frowned: "Damn it, are those lazybones upstairs not going to do anything? Karlma, Jack, go up and see what’s going on with them."

"Right away, boss." The Half-human sitting on a chair leaped down, whistling and leading his two subordinates towards the staircase.

"We might set a trap, such a large cub, eating just one chicken definitely wouldn’t be enough."

This suggestion from his deputy piqued his leader’s interest, so he turned his head towards the Half-human who was nearing the top: "Karlma."

The Half-human continued forward, unperturbed.

"Karlma!" The leader called out again.

Still no reaction from the Half-human, but one of his own kind tugged at his collar.

So the Half-human who had just pushed open the Bell Tower hatch turned his head, scratching his head and saying something.

However, his leader didn’t hear anything, and his deputy suddenly seemed to realize something, opening his mouth and emitting a shriek.

"Silence Field! We have enemies!"

With that declaration, an alarm went off in the leader’s mind, who had no time to act, grabbed his deputy and crashed through a window.

The next second, he saw the wall inside the window shatter, flames sweeping through the entire third floor, hurling various debris while he had to activate his hardening Transcendent ability, which saved him from being bombarded with shards and fragments.

But his deputy, his old friend, wasn’t so lucky, the young man’s face and neck pierced by several pieces of broken glass and window frames, lost his balance and ended up hitting the snowy ground below.

The leader was the same, but he struggled to sit up, while his deputy could only lie there in a pool of blood, lifeless eyes staring at him.

Damn Carterburg guys! How did they notice something was off?!

While struggling to get up, he also heard gunshots, was it the gunfire from his subordinates who had just run onto the terrace?

He raised his head, just in time to see a poor fellow rolling down from the terrace, the bullet hole on his head proving the assailant’s marksmanship.

Leaning against the wall to get up, he was hit on the head by a small piece of wall falling from the second floor before he could fully recover from the impact, the once persistent middle-aged man knelt in the snow, then toppled to the ground, his face bloodied and completely losing consciousness.