So, on the battlefield, when faced with a tank, some people's method is to throw Molotov Cocktails at the shattered cockpit and engine area.

Without the trouble of the Flame Gun, the tank directly rammed open the gate, breaking in.

Third Uncle and the others opened the hatch on the top of the vehicle.

In the center was a Heavy Machine Gun, and behind it, two holes were opened on the roof.

The armor plates above were pushed aside, Third Uncle and Ant stood on either side, each holding a gun, shooting at anyone they saw.

In the center, Jackals was operating the Heavy Machine Gun, killing anyone who appeared in front.

Third Uncle and the others moved incredibly fast, the speed of changing magazines was extremely fluid, with nearly no pause exceeding half a second.

They turned their Automatic Rifles into the effect of machine guns.

And the precision was exceptionally high.

Ratatatatata—

After the gate was broken, there was a straight path inside.

The armored vehicle moved at a moderate speed but very steadily.

Inside were crowds of running people, and some were throwing Molotov Cocktails at their vehicle.

Bam! 𝐟𝕣𝗲𝕖𝕨𝗲𝐛𝗻𝗼𝐯𝗲𝚕.𝗰𝚘𝐦

Third Uncle accurately hit two Molotov Cocktails that were about to smash onto their vehicle in mid-air.

The Molotov Cocktails exploded in mid-air.

Bang bang bang!

Ant, holding his Rifle, was doing precise shooting at people on the left-hand side.

His body barely moved, but his gun barrel constantly shifted.

In fifteen seconds, he accurately killed forty people.

On average, he shot nearly four people per second.

In his field of view, it was different from an ordinary person's perspective.

He was shooting in macro.

The human eye can see roughly 180 degrees of vision, more precisely, it should be 56° above the eyes, 74° below, 65° near the nose, 90° on the temporal side, with physiological blind spots.

But for top-notch Special Soldiers like Ant and his companions, especially those who survived countless life-and-death situations.

The view within their field of vision was like a painting.

And this painting was etched into their minds.

In this picture, each enemy was like a vivid red dot in the painting.

Coupled with their exceptional vision, perception, and the "battlefield intuition" honed through countless battles.

They hardly needed to aim, just needed to shoot each red dot in the picture.

When killing had become a habit, they hardly needed to focus attention on any single point.

For example, a person who seemed to be reading a newspaper can simultaneously use his peripheral vision to pick up a cup from the table and drink water.

It's the same principle.

On the other side, Third Uncle worked with nearly the same efficiency.

At the front, Jackals controlled the Heavy Machine Gun, constantly firing.

Due to the dispersal of the crowd, the number of people killed was not many.

But this was not because of his inability, rather, there were fewer people in front of the vehicle, and on top of that, Third Uncle and Ant on both sides were competing for kills....

Old Qin stepped on the accelerator, maintaining a speed of 50 kilometers per hour.

He drove single-handedly, as steady as an old dog.

Rolling down the car window, from time to time, firing two shots out the window with a Handgun.

The four of them were like a net.

A tightly woven net, this net moved forward with the car at its center.

The Oil City Fortress wasn't large, the straight path in the middle was only a few hundred meters.

After one trip down, Third Uncle and the others found that on the front and both sides, there were almost no survivors.

They were the top-tier killing machines, and by the end of this round, they killed at least a hundred and fifty people.

This was already half the manpower of the Oil City Fortress.

....stacked