A Type 95 Automatic Spear came with 90 rounds of ammunition, exactly enough to fill three magazines.
The black warriors got itchy trigger fingers, burning through nearly a tenth of their ammunition reserves in no time. Hot shell casings clattered all over the ground, yet they didn't even graze a single enemy.
It wasn't as if they'd achieved nothing. They'd thoroughly startled the Morudi tribe, who were hiding in the jungle.
The commotion from inside the manor was enormous. It sounded like at least dozens of automatic weapons were firing. Clearly, this wasn't the pushover they'd initially expected. The place was tough—very tough—to crack.
With bullets whizzing overhead, the Morudi tribe's chief, Chaganma, calmly held up his binoculars and continued observing the manor.
The ring of low blue walls was puzzling.
To him, they looked far too flimsy, serving only to offer a false sense of security. A light shove might be enough to knock down a long stretch of the shoddy walls. Why hadn't they built them higher and thicker? They could at least have backed them with sandbags!
But through his binoculars, he could clearly see the walls swaying slightly in the breeze. Shaking his head, he noted that there was nothing behind the sheet metal—not a single sandbag for reinforcement. The low walls were purely for show. They had no chance of stopping the Morudi tribe's warriors.
"A bunch of cowards!"
Chaganma lowered his binoculars and shook his head.
They were wasting ammunition by firing blindly, and the sheet-metal walls were shoddily built. His opponents were so weak that defeating them would bring him no satisfaction. There was no honor in such an easy victory!
"Chaganma, the people inside the manor refuse to surrender!"
The man sent to demand the manor's surrender had returned.
Unexpectedly, despite the