Chapter 85
Bang!
Another shot. Home Alone watched gleefully as the figure he had aimed at toppled backward. He knew he had hit his mark.
Shooting out from behind the battlements was far too easy. The men charging up the winding mountain road were like moving targets, completely exposed and packed especially close together.
Whenever he fired, even if he missed one, someone else would walk right into the bullet.
Home Alone absolutely loved this kind of hunting. It was even easier than shooting turkeys.
Of course, the enemies below the walls did have one advantage over turkeys, and that was...
Clang!
An arrow grazed his kettle helmet and flew over Home Alone's head, leaving a scratch as a parting gift.
"These turkeys shoot back!"
Home Alone ducked, straightened his crooked helmet, spat out a mouthful of bloody saliva, and withdrew behind the battlements to reload.
The drifting gunsmoke and sulfur from beside him made him cough, but the scorching sensation in his fingertips had this player trembling with excitement.
A sudden metallic scraping below the battlements caught his attention. Home Alone hurriedly stood and leaned out to look.
Below the wall, several enemies were furtively pushing a siege ladder upward.
"Fuck! Somebody get over here!"
Home Alone screamed and fired his Flintlock, killing one of them, then turned and waved.
A knight player nearby, looking like a tin can, immediately ran over carrying a pot of scalding pitch and hurled it down at the enemies.
Amid the overlapping screams, Home Alone heard a familiar shout... it was Old Smoker, the teammate operating a Crouching Tiger Cannon some ten meters to his left.
"Little Ghost!!!"
Even in battle, this player never forgot to keep a homemade cigarette between his lips. After firing his cannon, he suddenly shouted, because when he