The next day.
On the coast.
A thousand mercenaries stood in five columns.
Every one of them wore semi-mechanical armor. This entire combat unit consisted of Enhancement Types.
They could be called the Inverted Cross's strongest spear.
The renowned Tank was this unit's captain.
He was famous throughout the world for his ferocity in battle and refusal to retreat in a fight to the death.
On the beach,
fifty heavy cannons stood in a row.
The thousand-strong unit waited for the enemy's arrival, their faces stern, their ranks orderly and murderous.
"Captain, target spotted!"
The lookout bellowed, "Five kilometers!"
Nearly three meters tall and covered in heavy armor that obscured his appearance, Tank slowly raised his binoculars.
On the calm sea, a small fishing boat slowly entered his field of vision.
On the simple fishing boat,
a woman in white stood proudly at the bow, her expression composed.
To her left, Little White Tiger half-sat on the gunwale, one foot dangling over the side.
To her right, Old Ninth leaned sideways against the mast, listlessly smoking.
Up on the mast.
A man with yellow instant-noodle hair and a bare-chested man held fine liquor and waved at them.
Farther back.
On the cabin roof.
A man in a black jacket carried a Guan Dao taller than himself over his shoulder, his free hand on his hip as he stared ahead.
Beside him, a man who looked like a wealthy young master lay on a beach chair, wearing sunglasses.
Inside the wheelhouse.
A man as burly as Tank steered the fishing boat.
"Four kilometers!"
The lookout reported loudly, "They're about to enter firing range!"
"Load the shells!"
Tank bellowed sharply.
Whoosh!
The well-trained artillerymen pushed shells as thick as thighs into the breeches.
"Position one, loaded!"
"Position two, loaded!"
"Position three..."
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