Ark Undead

Just as he was about to rush out of the room, another crossbow bolt pierced the air and flew toward Garsen's position.

Garsen ducked down to avoid the crossbow bolt.

At this moment, Garsen finally realized that he had been set in a trap, and that he was in the very center of the trap.

Two giant crossbow bolts were embedded in the wall and the seat, and Garsen crawled toward the corner of the room where he was hiding.

This is the hardest wall; given the kinetic energy of the crossbow bolt, it would be absolutely impossible for it to penetrate here.

"Enemy attack! Enemy attack!"

A loud shout rang out from Garsen's mouth. His room had openings on all sides, so as long as he shouted in the room, someone would definitely hear him and come to his side.

People downstairs outside the door also shouted loudly in response to Garsen's warning.

After confirming that he was temporarily safe, Garsen slowly made his way to the door of the room.

There was no sound outside the door. Garsen didn't intend to sit and wait in the room; he wanted to sneak out before the other party became desperate. Otherwise, being locked in a closed room was too dangerous.

As long as he can get out and reunite with his men, he will be safe.

Of course, the first thing to do after ensuring safety is done is to kill that woman W!

Just before killing him...

Reaching out and touching the doorknob, Garsen calmly pushed the door open.

The setting sun shone into the room, and Garsen was overjoyed, preparing to rush out.

A steel knife, however, swerved in crookedly from outside the door, abruptly interrupting Garsen's words.

Blood flowed down his arm, but Garsen's survival instincts saved him once again at the critical moment, blocking a knife that was about to slit his throat.

Garsen was both shocked and furious, and had no choice but to take two steps back and retreat from the area near the doorway.

But the man just stared coldly at Garsen, showing no intention of taking anything further.

Looking at the unfamiliar figure in front of him, Garsen sneered, intending to stall for time.

"You are..."

But just then, another crossbow bolt shot into the room from outside the window, carrying irresistible kinetic energy.

Garsen hadn't finished exhaling when he could only hold his breath and try to dodge.

But the crossbow bolt landed in front of Garsen, not aimed at his body.

Just as Garsen was about to retreat further, he heard the person standing at the door say softly.

"Let's do it."

The next moment, the giant crossbow bolt in front of Garsen turned into countless pieces of wood chips.

The powerful shockwave propelled Garsen forward, slamming him against the wall, his head drooping limply.

Scout waited behind the door until the noise inside subsided slightly, then looked in again and saw Garsen standing motionless against the wall.

So he picked up the crossbow bolt from his back, aimed at Garsen, and pulled the trigger.

Garsen, who should have been unconscious, suddenly opened his blood-red eyes, his violent and ruthless gaze fixed on Scout standing at the door. He reached out and used his hard arm armor to deflect the small crossbow bolts that were being fired.

Having failed in his plan to lure the enemy deep into his territory, Garsen realized with a profound understanding that this group was definitely not some nobody.

The most urgent thing is to get out of here; we can't be trapped in the room and die.

But a sharp pain swept over Garsen just as he was about to move again.

Garsen looked down at his abdomen in shock, where a spearhead protruded from his lower abdomen, piercing through his entire body.

As his strength gradually faded, Garsen's vision became a blur of blood. He weakly raised his head and looked at the man standing in the doorway.

In the last second before losing consciousness, Garsen only saw a flash of silver light and a crossbow bolt.

laugh...

With an arrow piercing his chest, Scout cautiously loaded another bolt and shot it through the head of the man nailed to the wall, then quickly approached him.

He pulled out the dagger from behind him and slashed a large gash across Garson's neck to ensure his target was completely dead.

Scout then reached out and tapped the wall behind the corpse. The tip of the gun in Garsen's abdomen retracted, and the corpse fell limply to the ground.

"Target dead. All personnel shall retreat according to the predetermined route. Lei will provide cover."

After saying that, Scout popped out from the small window next to him.

After landing, he took a microphone off his chest, threw it on the ground, and stomped on it.

His squad members followed him, and together they scaled the wall and left the mercenary camp.

On the other side, W also poked her head out from under the covers, her two long red tufts of hair finally getting some fresh air.

She stretched and yawned.

There was only a busy tone left on the communicator. She turned it off and straightened her blankets with her hands.

This time, she could finally sleep peacefully.

178. Turmoil

Garsen ultimately could not escape his fate of death. While the web was already woven, he was still playing with the spider on his finger, completely unaware that he had already become his prey.

However, this cannot be blamed on him. After all, with Scout and W joining forces and the Undead providing support in the game, it would be difficult for Garson to survive.

The problem is that with Garsen's death, it was as if several dozen kilograms of explosives had suddenly detonated in the southeast corner of Chernobog, throwing the entire underground forces of Chernobog into chaos.

First, there's the mercenary camp.

While W was still sleeping and resting, someone broke into her room.

Hearing such a commotion, W squinted and raised his head slightly to look at the person who had suddenly barged in through the door, complaining with dissatisfaction.

"What's going on? Not only are they not feeding people, but they're also not letting people sleep?"

The mercenary was Garsen's confidant and didn't get along well with W. He was the kind of person who would always try to trip W up. Seeing W's innocent look, he went into the room and looked around.

They were just short of lifting W's blanket to see what was inside.

W's gaze towards this person gradually turned cold. She decided not to pretend anymore and spoke.

"If you dare, then prepare to feed your eyes to the Originium Bugs."

The man paused, abandoned his audacious idea, then stormed out angrily and slammed the door shut.

He did not find anything suspicious in W's room, and the people at the door said that she only called out twice that she wanted to eat, and then there was no other sound.

The windows were closed, and even the slippers under the bed were neatly arranged next to the bedside table; she hadn't even gotten out of bed.

He found no evidence whatsoever. In name, W was still at the same level as him, so he had no right to lay a hand on her.

Besides, who doesn't know W's methods? He doesn't want to become the next victim of a bomb.

His momentary rationality saved his life; he wasn't blinded by impulse, and his life was spared.

Watching the man leave his ward, W was certain once again that Garson was truly dead, and his death must have been gruesome.

Suddenly, my mood wasn't so bad anymore, and the anger at being barged into my room vanished in an instant.

Humming an unknown tune, W stared at the ceiling, yawned, and soon fell into a deep sleep again.

Later, inside the hotel.

The old man hugged his long sword, leaned against the wall, and closed his eyes to rest. He had a feeling that something big was going to happen today.

In my opinion, last night's thunderclouds were a completely targeted attack, and had absolutely nothing to do with the natural disasters that the children were anxiously discussing.

But why would someone capable of summoning lightning be in Chernobog?

Ursus's defenses in Chernobog are incredibly tight, so how did these people manage to sneak in? What is it about Chernobog at this time that would attract such powerful individuals, whom we haven't seen in years, to gather here?

The old man was in a somewhat unstable mood. He couldn't sit down and rest properly, so he could only lean against the wall and keep shaking his leg to think.

But continuing to think like this wasn't a solution, and since he was also a bit hungry, the old man decided to go downstairs to get something to eat.

Are you hungry?

"No, sir, you go ahead, we'll eat later."

The person in the hospital bed answered the old man, then his breathing became somewhat rapid, before catching up after a few seconds.

The elegant old man put down his long sword, opened the door, and prepared to go downstairs.

As soon as I opened the door, I heard a flurry of footsteps coming from the staircase at the end of the corridor.

The old man looked over, but could only see the back of the last person walking upstairs.

He frowned and walked towards the stairs. When he looked up, he could only hear a series of rapid breaths; there was no sound of conversation.

Only when a door was opened could faint conversations be heard, and as the door was closed, the entire corridor fell silent again.

It was really strange, so strange that even the old man couldn't help but think a little more.

Just then, these people went upstairs, and the old man quickly went down to the first floor and saw the store manager taking notes behind the counter.

"Hey, you're down here. Are you hungry?"

Hearing footsteps, the store manager looked up and saw the old man.

"Yes, there is some. Is there anything to eat now?"

The old man leaned against the counter, his gaze fixed on the counter behind the shop manager.

"Do you have any stews? I think a red soup would be nice."

"I haven't made it yet today. Wait a little longer. I'll get you some dry bread to eat with some yogurt. That should be enough to fill your stomach."

As he said this, the manager called out to the kitchen, asking for a dry bread and yogurt. The middle-aged woman inside responded, and soon the sound of knives scraping against each other could be heard.

This is a small family-run shop, and the shop owner and his wife work there.

Before long, a plate of hard, dry bread and a warmed yogurt were served, along with a knife and a cup of hot animal milk.

This is considered a very common snack in Ursus. Many Ursus residents use this dish for breakfast or as a cost-effective meal to fill their stomachs when they are hungry.

The old man picked up a slice of dry bread, used a knife to spread yogurt on it, and even made a scraping sound when the knife touched the bread.

“I just saw someone go up there.”