This Game Is Too Real
Chapter 565: Blood and Fire Melee!

Chapter 565: Chapter 565: Blood and Fire Melee!

Excluding the Big Horn Rat’s followers, 23 people ultimately decided to stay, including twenty heavy infantrymen from the Jungle Corps and Dusty Town’s "Three Pillar Gods."

Generally speaking, if the equipment disparity was not significant, with the HP bars, basic defense, and recovery ability of the mutants, humans stood almost no chance against an equal number in combat.

Even a challenge between 500 against 500 would be exceptionally difficult, let alone 23 against 500.

Especially in a frontal battlefield confrontation, there was hardly any room to maneuver, unlike guerrilla warfare which allowed for some dragging.

Just as Old White have said, this was no different from committing suicide.

However, be it rats or lizards, fiery battle intent blazed in their eyes, showing no trace of fear toward the impending slaughter.

Death was merely a destination—

They were all undying heroic spirits.

Walking up to Old White, dressed in the Hunter exoskeleton, Trash King solemnly said,

"I’ll entrust those residents to you."

Houses could be rebuilt

As long as the people remembered lived,

Old White nodded seriously.

"I promise, when you return, your followers will be just as numerous, not one less."

Trash King cracked a smile.

"Hey, I’ll remember that."

After speaking, he waved his claw and casually walked off to meet up with his brothers from the Jungle Corps.

The group split up, moving in the opposite direction of the main force.

Watching Trash King’s tall and burly silhouette, Qin Baitian hesitated a moment before finally asking, unable to help himself, "Lord... isn’t the Great Antler God coming with us?"

Watching the direction the group was leaving, Old White squinted his eyes.

"He has a mission to fulfill, and you will see him again."

Qin Baitian sighed bitterly.

He was old, but not senile.

No matter how powerful that lord was, that was still five hundred mutants. During the years he had lived here, he had heard stories about how a single mutant had slaughtered half a village.

That phrase about seeing again...

It was probably just a small comfort.

...

Within the commanding team, Org, sitting on an open-top off-road vehicle, gazed unwaveringly at the wasteland to the north.

In those bloodthirsty pupils, glimmers of hatred flickered.

Oru was his brother and also his father.

The old priest who delivered him said they were both born in the same tent, even from the same human mother.

This was extremely rare within the mutant tribe.

Very few humans lived that long.

Even awakeners mostly died by their seventh or eighth year, taken to the kitchens by butchers.

Perhaps because the human who gave birth to him had extraordinary strength, he felt a distinct difference between himself and the other mutants born at the same time.

Stronger muscles, swifter reactions, and a tougher physique... He caught the eye of a Centurion at the age of seven and joined the same hunting team as his brother, becoming a hunter in their tribe.

Perhaps because of their blood relation, his brother took especially great care of him, involving him in everything he did.

His first hunt, his first human meal, his first village slaughter, his first praise and ceremonial naming from the chieftain, and even his mechanical alteration... One could say, every significant event in his life was witnessed under Oru’s guidance.

However, Oru was dead.

And his death was unspeakably horrible.

When he saw the body, he wanted to grind his teeth to dust and swore in his heart to torture the human who killed his brother until their final breath.

Therefore, when he learned from the chieftain that his brother’s killer was hiding in a place called Dusty Town and was given permission to slaughter that village, every cell in his body trembled with excitement.

He could already see the groveling, despicable, weak, and scrawny bipeds trembling under his feet.

Ah, how utterly disgraceful...

It wasn’t just hatred and rage burning in his pupils, but also a glint of excitement.

"Faster!" Org roared in a rough tone.

The mutant driving the vehicle grabbed the intercom on the console and shouted excitedly into the frequency.

"Org says faster!"

Rough voices echoed over the frequency.

"Org!!"

The wheels of the vehicles spun faster, and the mutant soldiers chasing after them puffed and panted as they ran, their drool flying everywhere. Soon, gasping for breath, they began to fall behind.

It was always like this on missions.

There were always a few dim-witted fish who couldn’t squeeze onto the truck and couldn’t keep up with the squad, wandering off who knows where. Occasionally they would bring back a man or woman as proof that they hadn’t been slacking or deserting.

But none of that mattered.

The "Qi" tribe never relied on those stragglers, but on true warriors!

At this moment, the group of green beasts hadn’t noticed that a fully armed group of players had already ambushed them on their necessary path.

In the forest.

Watching the mighty team on the plains, the Picheng Paratrooper holding the binoculars couldn’t help but click his tongue.

"Damn... How are these animals running so fast?"

The record for the 42-kilometer marathon on Earth had just "broken 2," but this speed seemed to be just basic for the mutants.

Their strong cardiorespiratory capacity endowed them with terrifying endurance, covering four-fifths of fifty kilometers in less than two hours!

And this was across a wilderness with no roads.

Overlooking the vast dust shadows on the ground through a drone, the Ground Model spoke solemnly.

"They’re starting to slow down."

Picheng Paratrooper furrowed his brows.

"Have they spotted us?"

Xiao Xiaosha Chong shook his head.

"No, it’s probably just normal tactical strategy, conserving energy before engaging the enemy... I wonder if they’ll rest for a while."

He paused, then continued.

"If they don’t plan to continue moving after resting, now would be the best time to strike."

"Right..." Midnight Chicken Killing nodded soberly, raised his right fist and waved, "Proceed according to the plan."

A spark of excitement ignited in pairs of eyes, and the communications channel soon transmitted a uniform response.

"Roger!"

The hunt began!

Twenty people split into five squads and quickly moved along the jungle to the mandatory path of the mutants, spreading out in an arc facing outward.

One of the anti-tank squads advanced, including the squad leader, with four players pulling out their RPG Rocket Launchers aiming at the moving convoy.

Silently waiting for the target to come within range, Midnight Chicken Killing immediately ordered through the communications channel.

"Fire!!"

The moment the order was given, all four players triggered nearly simultaneously, sending rockets trailing thick white smoke toward the distant convoy.

There was almost no time to react.

The first truck took a direct hit, igniting sparks in the convoy, and three trucks stalled on the spot.

Caught off guard, a dozen trucks either slammed on the brakes or swerved, awkwardly clumping together in the wilderness.

If the Looters faced such a sudden attack, even if their morale didn’t fall by half, it would make the stunned part hesitate.

However, for the kill-crazed mutants, it was a completely different story.

A dozen mutants were thrown out of the trucks by inertia, but after a rough landing, they quickly got up cursing and swearing.

The ones squished together in the truck jabbered as they jumped down, grabbing weapons haphazardly and sprinting towards the direction of the forest.

They were like animals—

The difference was that they were holding large-caliber assault rifles in their hands.

"Charge!! Kill them all!!"

Sitting in the passenger side of the off-road vehicle, Oru roared loudly, slapped the driver’s shoulder hard, then slapped the machine gunner on the vehicle’s roof away, grabbed the machine gun from the back and started firing wildly into the forest.

Hot casings clinked and clanged fall inside the vehicle, and the muzzle flash illuminated his fierce gums and twisted facial muscles, weaving a net of traces across the plain.

He roared like a beast.

"Die!! Hahaha!"

Bullets whizzed into the jungle, shattering the thick trunks, with calibers at least .50 and above!

The players who fired off a salvo quickly ducked down, moved to a new location, and fired two more rounds of RPGs, then put away their launchers and pulled out their XB-1 "Roarer" Bomb Guns, unlocking the safety.

Seeing all teammates nearly in combat position, Midnight Chicken Killing yelled loudly, leading by firing the trigger.

"Fire at will—!"

The explosive roar of the muzzles instantly filled the woods, as thick flames burst from the forest.

Like locusts, the storm of bullets slammed into the advancing mutant soldiers, knocking the leading mutant soldier flying.

The massive recoil spread a trench under his feet, and the Ground Model, holding the "Roarer," shivered his teeth while excitedly shouting.

"Holy crap! Brother Chicken! This power is freaking awesome!"

A shot made two sounds; it wasn’t exaggerated!

The bullet would ignite mid-air for a second time, dragging a fiery tail toward the target, and upon impact, it triggered the primer of the bullet, releasing streams of metal as hot as magma!

This thing wasn’t like an assault rifle at all—it was like a rapid-fire rocket!

A charging mutant sentinel was blasted in the chest, igniting sparks at his back, and without even a chance to scream, he fell dead on the spot.

The mutant heavy infantry in steel breastplates were similarly disadvantaged. The thick steel plate could handle rifle bullets, but against the metal streams, it was as flimsy as paper.

Oru, sitting in the off-road vehicle, was also startled by the firepower.

A bullet hit just behind his vehicle, sending sparks flying in the back, roasting the two mutant warriors behind him, scorching his back as well, and making him break out in a cold sweat.

"Damn it! What the hell is this thing?!"

It was his first time seeing something that could kill a mutant with one shot!

Fortunately, the bullets were slow-moving, considered subsonic ammunition, making it difficult to hit a high-speed moving vehicle.

Ogur’s mind raced like lightning, and he suddenly grabbed the walkie-talkie, shouting frantically through the communication channel.

Upon hearing his command, eight off-road vehicles dropped the "tails" hanging at their rears and serpentined to the front line of the infantry, carving "S" shapes across the wilderness.

The clouds of dust and what seemed like man-made exhaust not only obscured the convoy’s tracks but also provided cover for the charging infantry.

Staring at the large cloud of dust rising ahead, Midnight Chicken Killing cursed under his breath.

Old White wasn’t kidding.

These mutants were no ordinary foe—they rapidly adapted and had even mastered the tactic of using smoke for cover.

This somewhat hindered the Jungle Corps’ aiming.

However—

These brawny green-skinned fellows certainly didn’t expect the real trouble to come from beneath their feet.

Because their attention was fixed ahead, they completely missed the situation underfoot. The leading mutants soon stumbled and face-planted into the ground, rolling several times, obscured by the smoke, and then tripping those behind them.

"Roar—!"

With a furious roar, a mutant spat out the mud in its mouth and struggled to stand, only to shockingly discover that clusters of dried grass in front had been tied into dead knots.

What the hell was all this?!

There was more.

The grass was strewn with nails, ropes, and various holes that looked like they had been dug by groundhogs. These traps, though not highly damaging and crudely set up, were exceedingly insulting.

Flaming bullets continued to whizz through the air, leaving no time to think.

People tripped over traps from time to time, followed by painful roars. The rightmost hundred-man team of mutants soon slowed down significantly.

Watching one green-skinned brute after another go down, Difficult for the Strong, hidden behind bushes, let out an excited scream.

"Charge them! Poke their eyes! Bite their throats! Kill them all!"

However, contrary to his wishes, the minion rats wouldn’t listen to him, nor could they understand what he was saying.

Startled by those suddenly intruding large green fellows, a few rats still rigging the traps chirped in shock and turned tail to run.

Despite a Big Horn Rat’s incessant squeaking nearby, they didn’t heed any commands, focusing solely on escaping for their lives.

"Darn it! These cowardly little creatures!"

Watching the panic-stricken minion rats, Difficult for the Strong cursed, then quickly remembered these guys were, after all, rats.

"MMP! I knew I couldn’t count on these creatures!"

Watching the mutants struggling to rise from the ground, he gritted his teeth, pulled the dagger hanging at his waist, and charged with a howl.

"Long live the Manager!"

Startled by this knee-high obese rat, the newly risen mutant soldier paused noticeably.

During this moment of hesitation, Difficult for the Strong rushed close and frenziedly stabbed at his leg.

"Ow—!"

The dagger sliced through flesh, and the mutant roared in pain. He kicked out furiously but struck empty air, which allowed Difficult for the Strong to swiftly move behind him.

"Die!!"

Taking advantage of the mutant’s forward lean, Difficult for the Strong, with a dagger in his mouth and all four paws at work, climbed up the left leg and brutally stabbed it into his throat.

Slash—!

The knife cut through an artery, and hot blood burst forth like blaze. The mutant, with eyes wide as copper bells, kneeled on the ground, blood pouring out rapidly, still unaware of what had happened before he breathed his last.

"Ptui! This blood stinks like hell!"

Spitting, Difficult for the Strong bit his dagger and scampered down the mutant’s back.

However, just as he lunged at another mutant, a massive force hit him from the side, sending him flying and rolling twice on the ground.

His right half completely numb, the dagger slipped from his mouth.

Regaining his senses, Difficult for the Strong realized that a shrapnel had torn open his right side from limb to belly.

If not for the pain suppression, the blow alone would have been enough to knock him out.

The mutant soldier standing nearby smirked, stroked the forestock under the barrel, and ejected a thick shell two thumb sizes from the gun chamber.

"Crap... a shotgun!"

Difficult for the Strong cursed again, barely twitched his left forelimb, and pulled the pin hidden at his waist, sending a flame darting into his waist pack.

It held half a kilo of dynamite.

Perhaps this was indeed the proper way to play a rat.

The mutant took great strides towards him, reached out with an iron pincer-like hand, grabbed his fat neck, and lifted him from the ground.

Just as he was trying to figure out what this fat rat was all about, the previously weary rat suddenly gave a wicked smile.

I’ll go first.

The rest—

I leave to you!

He screamed at the top of his sharp voice.

"Long live Lord Manager!"

The fire exploded in an instant!

The mutant, now missing half an arm and his head, studded with numerous shrapnel pieces, fell silently to the ground.

The burst of flames on the wilderness was like a stone thrown into a lake, quickly swallowed up in the tide-like onslaught.

However, to the trembling little creatures, that inconspicuous flame shone bright like a burst of fireworks.

In that instant—

Their "Big Horn Rat" turned into "Light"!

"Brother Difficult!"

Staring at the exploding flames with eyes about to split, Tranquility roared while lying in the forest, her index finger welded tightly to the trigger of her "Cavalry Gun."

The 20mm muzzle continuously spewed tongues of flame, dragging armor-piercing incendiary bullets into the noisy barrage like a cluster of flickering flames in the wind.

Neither the traps and ambushes of "Difficult for the strong" nor the 20mm Cavalry Gun in her hands could hold the mutants for long.

The Lizards lurking in the forest silently sharpened their claws.

They were waiting for an opportunity...

An opportunity to enter and reap havoc!

"Twenty..." muttered Trash, "If even two rats can be killed, I must kill at least twenty!"

The final hundred meters disappeared in an instant, leaving hundreds of corpses behind as the armed mutant troop finally broke into the jungle.

The Jungle Corps kept firing while retreating, completely dragging the mutant troops into the narrow visibility of the dense jungle.

At a distance where you can almost smell the breath of the enemy, the bomb gun with its 10m safety distance became useless.

Not just the bomb gun—

Except for high-caliber machine guns or shotguns, all long-range weapons were almost useless at the moment, being unable to aim for headshots.

Of course, the same was true for the mutants.

The K-10 "Iron Wall" exoskeleton provided twenty players of the Jungle Corps with extremely sturdy armor, capable of absorbing the kinetic energy of bullets at the expense of armor deformation.

Unless hit squarely with a burst or unfortunately hitting a vital spot, it was pretty difficult to die.

Clearly, the other side knew this, so they didn’t lay on the ground to shoot back but instead charged at high combat casualties to engage in close combat with the players.

Midnight Chicken Killing made a swift decision, releasing the "Roarer" in his hand and drawing out a logging axe that hung from his "Iron Wall" exoskeleton.

The sharp blade of the axe could split thick pine trees, naturally capable of cleaving through the necks and skulls of mutants.

Facing the approaching mutant warriors, he didn’t retreat but advanced instead, bellowing and striking down fiercely with the axe.

The vertically chopping axe, carrying a thunderous momentum, left the mutant soldier with no time to react, not expecting the human in front of him to brawl. His skull was instantly split open, red and white fluids splashing about, even chopping off teeth.

Kicking the cumbersome corpse aside, Midnight Chicken Killing reached behind with his left hand, pulling another axe from his back.

The dark breastplate splattered with red and white, his blood-soaked figure resembled a demon of the forest, both axes emitting a chilling gleam.

The nearby approaching mutant warriors, startled by his demonic appearance, involuntarily halted their steps.

This guy—

Was unlike any prey they had ever consumed!

"Roar—!"

Channeling their fear into a battle roar, a mutant centurion clad in heavy armor stepped forward, swinging his nail hammer forcefully.

The whistling hammer, dragging a gust of wind, carried a terrifying kinetic force like a cannonball, seemingly able to indent even tank armor.

If this hit landed, even if it didn’t kill, it would leave one a vegetable.

Just as this lethal strike was about to smash into the human soldier’s face, the mutant centurion saw a blur before him, followed by excruciating pain along his forearm.

The hand holding the nail hammer was chopped off by a sideways swing of the axe!

"Ow—!"

Screaming in pain, he staggered back, not even stabilizing before another gust aimed at his face.

Clang—

The vertically chopping blade once again smashed a skull.

All this happened in mere breaths!

"...Two!"

Drenched in scalding hot blood and brain matter, Midnight Chicken Killing stared at the halted mutant warriors, unable to suppress the excitement in his throat.

"Completely insane!"

He roared loudly, swinging both axes as he charged them.

Watching the man charging at them like a meteor, a rare panic surged across the dark green faces.

It had always been them chasing those weak bipeds running, watching them trip in the forests, crying and begging for mercy.

Never had anyone dared to face them head-on like this moment, not fleeing but instead charging towards them.

This guy was unlike any of the humans they had preyed upon before—

No.

He wasn’t even human!

The real hunt had just begun.

The twenty players of the Jungle Corps and the green-skinned brutes who stormed into the forest engaged in a bloody melee, the swinging axes like rolling meat grinders, harvesting green heads amidst the pungent smell of gunpowder.

For the players standing here, chopping necks was no different from chopping trees, and both were their best skills.

This was the jungle.

This was their home ground!