Black Lake

"You suicidal fool!"

One of the officers wearing a Reindeer Mask roared.

"Kill him!!"

The two raised their guns and fired, the air erupting with bangs.

However, Gilan was incredibly swift, weaving left and right between the pine trees.

With several sharp thuds, bullets struck the tree trunks, sending wood chips flying and leaving deep craters. Gilan seized the opportunity to close the distance, raising his short-barreled revolver to return fire.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

Due to the complex environment and the fact that Gilan was on the move, these three shots failed to hit the pair's vitals; one missed entirely, and the other two only struck their arms.

Gilan did not panic at this.

His greatest advantages were his physique and close-quarters combat.

With a heavy thud, Gilan kicked off a tree trunk, launching himself forward. He slammed his right knee into one man's face, shattering his cheek along with the Reindeer Mask.

Pfft!!

The officer, struck by the knee, fell backward, his head slamming against a large cobblestone on the ground, and he immediately went still.

Snap!!

Gilan stomped on his throat before charging toward the other man.

The man tried to fire his gun, but the distance between them was too short; Gilan had already reached out, grabbed him, and tackled him to the ground.

With a dull thud, Gilan knelt on the man's chest, his expression blank, and brought a fist down.

Bang!!

The punch sent mask fragments flying, accompanied by blood-stained teeth and a spray of gore.

Gilan's knuckles were torn and bleeding, but he seemed not to feel the pain, bringing his other fist down once more.

Bang!!

Bang! Bang!!

His fists blurred into afterimages, striking the enemy's face repeatedly.

The man had let out two screams at first, but soon fell silent, leaving nothing but a pool of blood in the surrounding area.

Gilan slowly stood up and turned his head to look.

The members of The Assembly were still locked in fierce combat. Mr. Oystercatcher and Miss Sparrow seemed to have sustained some injuries, but nothing critical. As for the Cultists, more than half of them had already fallen.

Fima was hiding far away, crouching behind a large boulder, covering her ears and trembling.

The sky had turned a yellowish hue without anyone noticing, making the entire pine forest look dreamlike and surreal.

Light pierced through the gaps in the canopy like long spears.

"Hah! Damn Cultists!" Mr. Oystercatcher roared. Surrounded by two axe-wielding masked men, he decisively donned his iron knuckles to fight them.

Amidst dull, wet thuds, his heavy, powerful punches struck the enemies, successfully knocking down both masked men after several exchanges. However, he sustained more injuries in the process, and the bandages he already wore were soaked through with blood.

Mr. Oystercatcher panted heavily. Out of the corner of his eye, he suddenly spotted a female masked figure hiding behind a tree, raising a pistol toward him.

"Damn it!" He ducked, drew his dual pistols with lightning speed, and pulled the triggers repeatedly in the direction of the female masked figure.

Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!!

Miss Seagull, who had been aiming at an enemy, suddenly heard a barrage of gunfire beside her. Just as she turned to look, her cold, beautiful face froze in shock.

Looking down, she saw that she had been shot in the waist!

Blood flowed uncontrollably, staining a circle of her tight-fitting white wool sweater red.

An intense wave of pain followed. In her blurring vision, she saw Mr. Oystercatcher with bloodshot eyes, firing wildly in her direction.

"Oystercatcher! What are you doing?!" Mr. Stork, who had just smashed an enemy's skull with his cane, saw this scene and his expression changed drastically.

The next second.

Whoosh—

Squelch!!

At the critical moment, Mr. Stork sensed danger and raised his arm to shield his face.

A thin, long metal arrow pierced through his forearm, the blood-stained tip stopping just centimeters from his eyes!

His heart hammered against his ribs. He endured the agonizing pain and looked closely to see Miss Sparrow drawing her bow, preparing to fire at him again!

"Miss Sparrow! You people...?!"

Mr. Stork was completely bewildered; Mr. Oystercatcher and Miss Sparrow had suddenly gone mad and were attacking their own teammates.

Whiz—whoosh!

A flying axe suddenly whistled through the air, spinning straight toward Mr. Stork's forehead.

Almost at the next instant, a cold, gray shadow of a staff collided with it.

CLANG!!

The axe was deflected, and Mr. Stork twisted his cane, side-stepping behind a pine tree.

With a cold expression, he yanked the arrow from his left arm and tossed it aside. Ignoring the blood flowing from the wound, he drew the pistol from his waist and fired a shot at a forty-five-degree angle to his right.

BANG!

A burly masked man, who had been preparing to throw another flying axe, collapsed on cue, a bloody hole centered squarely in his forehead.

"Mr. Snowy Owl, go help Miss Seagull!" He flicked his pistol-wielding hand, fired another shot that blew the head off a Cultist, and shouted in a deep voice.

"Understood." Gilan's reply was remarkably concise.

Perhaps it was due to his experiences in the Moon-Scorched Village movie world, but he was quite familiar with the jungle environment and moved through it with great speed.

Miss Seagull, who had been shot, leaned against a pine tree, clutching the wound on her abdomen. Her face was deathly pale, and blood had stained her fair fingers crimson.

Mr. Oystercatcher was still firing at her; the incessant bang-bang of the gun, accompanied by the constant vibration of the tree trunk, left her both terrified and furious.

Click-clack!

Mr. Oystercatcher finally emptied his magazine, but before Miss Seagull could breathe a sigh of relief, she saw the burly man don iron brass knuckles and charge toward her, shouting, "Damn Cultist!"

Miss Seagull wanted to curse him out, but when she opened her mouth, she found her breath too weak to make a sound.

The spiked iron fist descended toward her head. Miss Seagull gritted her teeth, intending to endure the pain and dodge, but she caught a glimpse of a figure flashing by in her peripheral vision.

BANG!!

A blonde youth in a coffee-colored trench coat stood before her, striking out with one hand. The heel of his palm slammed into Mr. Oystercatcher's forearm, knocking the punch aside.

Immediately after, he let out a thunderous roar: "Wake up!"

BANG!!

The blonde youth punched Mr. Oystercatcher in the face. Miss Seagull could even see the burly man's cheek deform under the impact of the fist as he rolled his eyes and his head snapped to the side.

With a thud, Mr. Oystercatcher collapsed onto the ground beside Miss Seagull, his mouth stained with blood.

He looked like he was sleeping more soundly than a baby.

"Mr. Snowy Owl, tha... thank you." Miss Seagull looked up at the blonde youth and said shyly. "Last night you..."

SLAP!

The next second, she froze.

Mr. Snowy Owl had grabbed her by the scruff of her neck, hoisting her up like a kitten, and then dove to the side with her in tow.

Whoosh—thwack!

A metal arrow struck the exact spot where she had been standing, embedding itself into the tree trunk with its tail still vibrating.

"Ouch..." Miss Seagull was already wounded in the abdomen, and Gilan's violent movement caused her such agony that she nearly fainted.

Gilan glanced a dozen meters away. Miss Sparrow was half-crouched behind a tree, exposing half her body as she drew her bow and aimed an arrow at him, seemingly identifying him as an enemy as well.

Is she being influenced by a mysterious power? Gilan frowned.

He scooped her up with his powerful arms, cradling her against his chest, and began to run in the opposite direction. Whether out of shame, anger, or pain, Miss Seagull began to struggle in his arms, pushing at Gilan's face several times.

WHACK!

Without a word, Gilan slapped her across the face.

"Don't move if you don't want to die!" he said coldly.

Miss Seagull's expression went blank as she stared, stunned, at the face inches from her own.

The pain in her abdomen seemed to vanish in that moment, and only one thought filled her mind—

As the daughter of a Black City councilman, I have actually been slapped by a man?!

But the next second.

An irrepressible, complex emotion surged within her heart, as if a wild horse were galloping, running amok, and neighing with all its might inside her chest.

Miss Seagull's cheeks flushed red, and she stopped struggling.

Instead, she obediently pressed her face against his chest, her small hands clutching tightly at the collar of his trench coat.