Pira didn’t forget to add music to the scene, "Ding↓dang→dang↑dang↑dangdang! Check out Pira’s new baby!"
"Multi-tube rocket launcher!"
"Multi-tube rocket launcher!"
Seeing that monstrous thing, Paul, sitting in the passenger seat, screamed; that dangling thing could definitely pierce through the tank of an oil truck and directly cause an explosion!
"Damn, go around! Everyone, get into the side road!"
With his head buzzing, Paul saw Pira activate the weapon, and the white smoke emitted from the tail of the launch tube scared him into grabbing the steering wheel and forcibly turning right.
The advancing convoy split again, with five modified cars and five oil trucks forcibly turning onto the side road, while the three modified cabins that didn’t turn in time saw the multi-tube rocket launcher fire!
A series of fire bursts spewed from the tube mouth and struck near their vehicles, causing intense explosions, with the sound and light effects maxed out, scaring the drivers and gunners into losing their wits, unsure whether to step on the gas, turn hard, or brake.
It was total chaos; some vehicles flipped over, some crashed into their teammates’ cars, two vehicles hit and stopped by the roadside.
But not a single vehicle was killed by the rocket launcher.
Because it wasn’t a rocket, it was fireworks welded together like tubes, with just an outer shell resembling a rocket, not even as powerful as a bullet, let alone a grenade.
Seeing the chaotic scene, Pira laughed heartily, "Hahaha!!! I bet if those guys find out it’s fireworks, they’ll die of anger. The genius who came up with this is a mastermind!"
If Paul was really willing to go all out, charging forward against the weapon that looked like a rocket hive, Mann and his team would have to yield the way, and then everyone would play a chase game on the highway.
Either the Night Wanderer successfully escapes, or they take some oil trucks.
However, the plan’s success doesn’t mean everything went smoothly; there are at least thirty elite die-hards loyal to Paul among the ten cars going down, and they are not easy to handle.
Seeing the Night Wanderers already coming out of the cars in a scattered group of twenty or so, it’s also a tough fight.
Mann’s projectile launcher was empty and had to switch to his handgun.
"Hurry and take them down, get ready to support the boss."
Even though Mann’s job was technically over, with the spirit of being there, adding some extra effort might fetch him more money.
Having gone down the side road, heading downhill, Paul listened to the earth-shattering sound of explosions behind him with great relief.
Thankfully, he reacted quickly, otherwise if the rockets came, his convoy would likely be wiped out.
But no matter how much Paul thought about it, he couldn’t understand why the opponents had the guts to use this kind of thing against five big oil trucks without fearing dying together?
Besides, buddy, why blow up the oil trucks? What’s the point?
Now Paul felt that these people’s target wasn’t oil trucks at all but himself.
This group of bastards just wanted him dead.
As for losing his followers, Paul didn’t care much; as long as Night City existed, there would undoubtedly be a constant stream of losers coming out to join the Night Wanderers.
Not to mention the Night Wanderers had the Chaotic Blade Association backing them.
However, he managed to escape from the opponent’s tight net, even the rockets couldn’t kill him, meaning it was fate that spared him!
If heaven wouldn’t take him, what could a bunch of Adcardo and Mercenaries do to him?
If he dreamt back eighteen hundred years ago, the famed Han Prime Minister Cao Mengde would surely laugh and say:
Then he saw a few truckloads of scrap garbage dumped on the side road by someone.
A full load of steel plates, rebar, steel scraps, and a large heap of things that looked like four-cornered tire spikes.
Whether crashing into them would be okay, he didn’t know.
But for the tires, forget it.
Behind the garbage pile, lined up were four cars, with the shells and paint of the front two looking very damn familiar.
After successive assaults, Paul also knew he was set up; the retreat route and defensive plan were thoroughly mapped by the opponent.
Upon closer look, there were six or seven people ahead, dressed very formally, appearing to be some company’s security team.
At this point, even a clay figure would have a temper, and the Night Wanderers hadn’t suffered such a loss in years.
Ten cars successively braked, the Night Wanderers jumped out, spread out, surrounded, and advanced, even unleashing vehicle-mounted machine guns without hesitation, bullets passing through car shields, creating bursts of sound on the ground.
The players who were leisurely at first were suddenly dumbfounded by this unexpected firepower; it was their first encounter with such fierce enemies’ firepower, especially Brother Dao standing outside the cover, his left arm directly blown away, almost getting shot dead.
"Damn, these guys’ firepower is fierce!"
Pulled back to cover by Red Bucket, Brother Dao was a bit stunned, looking at his half-gone left arm bleeding like crazy, the bone and shredded meat clearly visible.
Still, he felt no pain, no fear, rather an extreme thrill.
Among the six players, some froze while others reacted quickly.
"Why are you standing there? Fight back now, damn it! Those freaks are coming!"
Wildman grabbed a rifle, raised it, and fired a burst, quickly getting suppressed back; other players imitated and started organizing a counterattack, but their firepower wasn’t on the same level.