Our Family Has Fallen

Even the powerful body that one takes pride in cannot withstand the pure attack of artillery without a hint of Supernatural Power.

This is the victory of science!

But this is just the beginning. The army hidden in the ruins of the buildings began a barrage of shooting; bullets were not considered serious injuries for the cultists, as they could heal given a little time.

But the problem was that those soldiers knew this too, and shooting was merely to interrupt actions, to hold them back and gather more cultists together.

"Watch out for bombs!"

With loud shouts, a flurry of grenades was thrown out.

All chosen specifically for their skill in throwing, in an instant, those grenades fell among the cultists.

No surprise, explosions rang out in succession, the blast and shrapnel left the already shot cultists in a daze.

When the smoke and dust cleared, the cultists lay around in disarray, with basically none left standing in the core explosion area.

Gunshot wounds and shrapnel tore their flesh, blood flowed uncontrollably, and some severed limbs could be seen; one could only wonder who the unlucky fellow was that got blown up.

But the cultists’ powerful and bizarre Power of Flesh and Blood resisted death, wriggling flesh healing, those knocked out trying to rise.

But the army had more resources.

"What’s the wind direction?"

"Southeast wind, throw it ahead."

Amid the shouting, those throwing pulled out something new.

This was a small-charged bomb, not an iron shell but a hard paper wrap, one might call it a bigger firecracker, except uniquely it was wrapped with [Corpse Decomposition Spore].

The special biochemical weapon was ignited and thrown, the next second it exploded among the cultists, spreading spores with the aid of gunpowder, and the autumn wind further encouraged the process.

The Corpse Decomposition Spore landed on the exposed wounds of the cultists and immediately began to work, the flesh still wriggling yet not recovering, instead being consumed and withering by the spores, eerily like some bizarre plague.

The wounds couldn’t heal; instead, they corroded, the blood loss drained their last life force, leaving only bones, not even leaving the bodies intact, let alone Ascend.

In the long battle against the cultists, Hamlet’s soldiers had accumulated extensive experience, primarily setting tactics against them.

Moreover, the difference was not just tactical, but more importantly, there was a gap in equipment.

One side only knew how to charge recklessly, lacking armor, relying solely on their flesh, using cold weapons that had to be wielded up close.

The other side knew how to organize, set reasonable tactics, use restraining equipment, and through the advantage of weaponry and equipment, their firepower cover further lowered the difficulty of confrontation.

Supernatural Power was not absent in their confrontation.

This place was originally the Sect of Ascension’s base camp, and the death of those cultists added a few more strengths.

Hidden among them, the Heretical Witches began to cast spells to interfere with the army, trying to heal their comrades.

However, sporadic gunfire rang out at that moment, the bodies of the evil sect spellcasters blossomed with blood flowers, and some had their heads tilted and met their ancestors directly.

Hamlet’s snipers had long taken positions, and their targets were not those ordinary cultists, following the Lord’s teachings, they focused only on high-value targets.

However, the number of snipers trained by the navy was still too few, their combat experience not rich enough, unable to fully cover those targets.

Moreover, the accuracy of the musket was also uncertain; beyond a certain distance, it couldn’t kill the enemy, but the loading time was just enough for them to counterattack.

The bizarre sorcery, although difficult to form a widespread attack, scattered over those soldiers.

Their brains felt as if a scorching steel needle was inserted, and when that feeling slightly alleviated, strange whispers seemed to ring in their ears, with negative emotions involuntarily surging, and inexplicable pressure rising steeply.

Fear and despair occupied most of it, hope suddenly seemed so faint, it was like suffocating.

They had only ever encountered pirates and Deep Divers, the Deep Sea Shaman’s sorcery did not attack the soul so directly, so even though they had heard from veterans, it was still hard to resist.

This was their obstacle to becoming veterans. If they overcame it, it was nothing; if not, they would need to consider psychological treatment.

Nobody could help them with this; it was up to them.

Some who endured it were fine, though slightly pale, they still knew what they should be doing.

But some weak-willed recruits, faced with this situation, might fall into a state of torment, forcing others to assign personnel to control and bring them back to the rear.

This situation indeed interfered with those soldiers, but the artillery positions were not here, the loaded cannons roared again, the forceful shells whistling through, breaking the tendons and bones of some cultists who had barely recovered.

Simultaneously, a few exposed spellcasters were also given special attention, snipers targeting, and demolition experts throwing grenades.

However, perhaps due to previous lessons, those cultists also knew to spread out and no longer cluster, using the chaotic ruins as cover, resulting in the counterattack not achieving much effect.

This distance was no longer a safe shooting distance; getting closer meant bayonet combat, which would be a significant challenge for the navy who hadn’t experienced much close-quarters bloodshed.

Their field warfare capability was indeed inferior to the army’s, not on individual capability, but in experience and tactical command.

Because their hypothetical enemies were at sea, related training and tactical arrangements were all centered around this.

And at this time, Lance had previously mentioned transferring some veterans proficient in defensive warfare to assist in command, and now they played a role.

"Move! Don’t just stand there."

"Rely on advantageous terrain for sequential blocking!"

"Squad, follow me!"

The army soldiers would never play hardball with those cultists; these veterans slipped like eels.

They would use every resource available to them to continuously weaken those cultists, bayonet combat was usually last resort or to finish off.

When the cultists spread out, three hundred navy soldiers were divided into five-man squads under command, with teams mutually supporting each other.

They wouldn’t confront the cultists directly but slowly retreated, continuously bleeding the cultists with guns and bombs in the process.

Once exhausted, they would go up to eliminate the mindless cultists; simply put, it was using space to exhaust those cultists.

These soldiers included some recruits, but all had undergone basic training in the training camp, and those who passed were qualified soldiers.

With someone leading, they knew what they should be doing, and their organizational skills were evident.

And in this process, they quickly grew up, as they found that those seemingly weird cultists weren’t so terrifying.

Once desensitized, they understood—Ah! Is that all?

In the process, some were hit, injured, or tortured by sorcery, but were quickly brought back for treatment.

Overall, Hamlet was "retreating step by step," forced back to the old manor, but in truth, many cultists also fell on this stretch.

Although the previously seized position was retaken by the cultists, it must be noted that there were no building ruins in front of the old manor entrance.

What does the contraction of the frontline mean?

It means they fired two more shots, and the silent cannons once again roared.

"Fire!"

The shells crashed among the cultists, the next second they rolled onto the grass stained with blood, seemingly slow, but any weeds or shrubs encountered were directly crushed.

It was clear that as the distance shortened, the residual force of the shells directly plowed a clear line in the grass.

From a high point of view, it seemed like a brush painting on the grass, except the paint was... flesh and blood.