This Game Is Too Realistic

"Yes!"

Several players ran away with eagerness, with no worry on their faces, but a little excitement instead.

"Siege war! War campaign!"

Unexpectedly, Devs planned such a fun activity for them!

However, they didn't know that a certain game designer was very worried at this moment.

Walking to the weapon shop in a stride, Chu Guang picked up the dozing weapon shop proprietress, carried her on his shoulders, and took her two crutches in his left hand.

"Ya! What are you doing, in such broad daylight—" Shocked by this sudden movement, Xia Yan, who had just woken up from her sleep, blushed and struggled a few times, but Chu Guang ignored her.

"Shut up."

Chu Guang put Xia Yan down, next to the elevator on the first floor of the nursing home, and returned the crutches to her. She had a bewildered look on her face when he stared at her and said calmly,

"If they manage to break in, you will go into the elevator and wait. I will take you down when I come back. If I don't come back, don't make any noise and find a place to hide."

The elevator to the underground needed the administrator's authorization to start. Chu Guang temporarily locked the elevator. After all, he reserved this exit for himself.

Xia Yan nodded, not very flustered, at least not as flustered as she usually was when facing him.

"I see... Wait, break in? Who?"

"Marauder—" Before his words fell, there was a gunshot from far away, followed by two more shots. Based on the sound, it seemed like two to three hundred meters away.

Chu Guang's expression darkened, and the flow of blood in his body began to accelerate.

'Marauders!'

'...are coming!'

...

Outside the north gate.

The marauders that were scattered in a line were holding guns in their hands, shouting loudly, while advancing toward the north gate, shooting any fleeing survivors they saw.

They had a wide variety of weapons, ranging from revolver rifles picked up from merchants to semi-automatic rifles snatched from mercenaries, or simply DIY iron-barreled rifles.

No matter what kind of weapon, in this jungle terrain, it was not so easy to hit anything from two hundred meters away.

Even after a few gunshots, none of the players fell to the ground. Several survivors by the wall slipped back into the gate, and several wooden stalls at the gate were damaged.

However, the outcome of the battle was not originally based on how many people were killed in the battle, but rather on getting the opponent to completely give up resistance.

These marauders knew this well.

The art of fear had been played to the extreme by them.

The intensive gunfire and the resulting suppression of firepower almost had devastating effects on the morale of non-professional soldiers.

In a 30-person survivor stronghold, only one-third of people were capable of fighting normally. In rare cases, half of the stronghold was able to fight.

There was no need to kill the fleeing survivors on the spot, these rats would run around, bring the plague called fear back to their lair, and completely destroy their will to resist.

Amongst the small communities of survivors plundered by them, generally, less than one-tenth of the survivors actually died in the shootout.

Perhaps these people would have the courage to hide behind the bunker and fire a few symbolic shots back, but it would not take long before their morale collapsed and they escaped through other doors.

At that time, the elderly, children, and women would be left behind, and it was impossible for the young people who had fled to outrun the hounds they brought.

There was often only one final fate for this kind of survivor stronghold.

To be slaughtered.

Or to be enslaved!

"Hahaha! Look at those cowards, they fled like a mouse as soon as they heard the gunshot!"

A brawny man with bare arms carried a 9mm iron-barreled rifle in his hands and laughed loudly while firing, with a hideous face that gleamed with excitement.

As the squad leader of the Bloodhand clan, his name was Badger, which was given by his leader himself. Most of the nine people under his command were his trusted subordinates.

The bloodlines of the Marauder tribe were usually chaotic. They did not produce, advocated violence, and lived by looting and extortion. Therefore, there was no traditional concept of family, let alone a couple or spouse.

Take the bloodhand clan as an example. If a child was born, the strong baby boy would be accepted as the clan member, and the rest would be slaves. They would either engage in labor or be used as a reproductive tool, so there were often children with the same mother but a different father, or the same father but a different mother.

These clan members often acted in groups like wolves, and the bravest among them would be appointed by the leader as the squad leader. And their clan members would also benefit from their leader's promotion, becoming marauder veterans or elites, and getting more rights to control their own spoils.

"Haha, the blue coats? It seems that we will have a lot of fun!"

A lanky man replied with a strange smile, and at the same time he loaded the shotgun in his hand and continued to fire at the cover on the wall.

"The same as always, kill all the young and old, and the men, cut off their index fingers and tie them up."

"Boss, what about the women?"

"The first one to break into the gate picks first. We only stay for two hours. Two hours later, the ones who are still alive will be taken away. ."

"Oh, oh, oh!"

Fifty meters away!

The opponent hasn't responded yet!

The corner of Badger's mouth raised a cruel smile.

He knew what these survivors were thinking. They were waiting for them to come out of the forest, and then fire back through the cover.

If what he guessed was correct, those people were already holding guns and waiting behind the covers on the wall.

However...

Would he be so stupid to let his subordinates rush up?

"Come! Light them up to liven up the atmosphere!"

"Yes sir!"

The marauder, who rushed to the front, ignited the Molotov cocktail in his hand, and under the cover of the firepower of his teammates, he sprinted a short distance and threw the Molotov cocktail out.

The flame left an arc in the air and fell on the cover of the three-meter-high wall.

Sparks were scattered everywhere, and the rusty cover was quickly ignited and was burned by the flames.

Then came the second one, then the third one. The fire on the wall quickly joined together, leaving not many places to stand.

However, to the surprise of these marauders, the screams they expected did not erupt, and no one fell from behind the cover.

It was like...

No one was hiding behind those covers from the beginning?

Badger frowned, feeling something was amiss in his heart.

'Did these people even give up struggling?'

'Seriously?'

'Normally, people from the stronghold would fight back, right?...'

That trace of confusion soon turned into contempt.

However, just as he was about to order his men to come forward and break the wooden gate with explosives, a sharp whistle suddenly sounded in the forest.

It was like some kind of offensive signal!

Almost at the same time, intensive gunfire rained down from both sides.

The "swishing" bullets almost scratched Badger's scalp, making him lie down behind a fairly thick stump hurriedly.

'Accuracy?'

It's nonexistent.

But people were made of meat after all, and no matter how powerful they were, they would still be afraid of being killed by guns.

He shouted, with a voice that sounded almost hoarse,

"Spread out!"

"Retreat one hundred meters!!"

"Quick!!!"