In fact, the moment the two shells precisely struck the Security Team's station and secured victory.
The three major gangs had already promptly redeployed the men carrying Crude Guns toward the rear, precisely to prevent the Tundra Fleet's support force from launching a sudden attack while the gang members were celebrating.
Yet despite their preparations, the "support force's" attack still threw everything into chaos at once.
Rat-tat-tat. Bursts of gunfire erupted like relentless raindrops, muzzle flashes spitting dazzling tongues of flame into the darkness.
It was obvious from the sound alone that these guns were far more powerful than Crude Guns.
And compared to the sparse firing rate of Crude Guns, these weapons seemed to have infinite ammunition, barely stopping at all.
Dense lines of fire formed a fan-shaped field of death in the air, like a sickle sweeping low across a wheat field.
"Damn it, these people actually have standard-issue rifles! How is that possible?!"
Fan Lunding, who had been preparing to head to the rear to direct the counterattack, turned deathly pale. He immediately sensed that something was wrong.
The disaster had only ended a day ago. In his eyes, being able to produce two crude mortars in such a short time was already the limit of the Giant Tree Root Relay Station's current capabilities.
After all, there were no open-pit iron mines to exploit here, no mature smelting plants, and not even an assembled production line.
Even the cleverest housewife could not cook without rice. No matter how skilled the craftsmen were, they could not hand-produce batches of rifles and bullets.
Therefore, with a Crude Gun squad of a certain size and two mortars, they should have been invincible at this stage.
But what terrified people was that this Tundra Fleet was frighteningly powerful.
In just one