In the dark night, the burning street was like a dead fire dragon, lying on the ground in a twist, and the struggling figures were like parasites attached to the fire dragon, screaming and running around in scattering.

In the firelight, the twisted figure turned into coke, and the explosion sounded endlessly where the flames swept. This was the hell in Pierre's eyes, and the two chariots that were facing the fire dragon in hell had rushed forward with the determination to die.

Even the tough guy was so strong that his eyes were wet at this moment. Pierre touched his eyes in no time, and the tears made his vision blurred. The two chariots in the distance were reflected by tears, revealing colorful lights that reflected the god-like.

"Brothers, let's go... We will protect you what you cherish the most! If it is really as the Chinese say, there will be a next life... Then I hope we will never experience war again!"

The Moore Warriors and the mercenaries who followed were now trapped in the martyr's frenzy, and the galloping carriage rushed forward and knocked over countless overachievers who were overestimating their abilities.

The mercenaries were laughing wildly in the sound of wind and fire. They threw flames all the way, turning the entire Dublin into a sea of ​​fire.

"Advance! Fight to death... Let the enemy never forget this day!"

Moore Warriors held a blood-stained dog-headed knife in his mouth, holding the horse's reins in one hand, and whipping the horse's back with a whip. The two horses in front of him were so tired that they foamed at the mouth and their muscles were trembling.

"Bless Allah, hold on for a while, hold on for a while... hold on! You must rush to the enemy's armory!"

At this moment, the coaxing sound was heard, and the gurgle of the carriage suddenly ran over a corpse. The carriage that had been in mid-air suddenly leaped over half a meter high. The Moors, who were caught off guard, almost fell off the car.

With just a shock, the dog-headed knife moved in his mouth, and a huge gap was stabbed by the sharp blade, and blood was splashed on the face.

Looking at the Moors, two mercenaries who were shooting fell from the back car without standing firmly. At that moment, countless British cheers erupted behind them.

Almost in the blink of an eye, seventy or eighty British militias rushed out from the surrounding alleys, surrounded by old muskets and bayonets.

"Don't worry about us, keep rushing forward..." The two mercenaries who were single threw away the rifle that had no time to get the bullet, pulled out daggers and bayonets from the back, and charged in the reverse direction and directly knocked down the crowd who were trying to take advantage.

The strong mercenaries are like two bulls, slashing and slashing out a bloody path among the militia. Without any defense, they are all killer moves that advance without retreat.

Militia are militiamen. They had never seen such cruel killings. Six of them were knocked down after touching them. The remaining people were so scared that they were backing back.

"None of them are humans! These are evil ghosts from hell! Shoot, shoot..." Amid the horrified roar, more than ten reloaded rifles pulled the trigger, and the two mercenaries trembled in place due to the rain of bullets.

"This life has finally come to an end..." The bayonet in the hand of the mercenary half-kneeling poked the stone slab and barely supported their bodies. Their eyes did not stop on these panicked faces, but looked in the direction where Pierre was hiding from afar.

"Remember your promise... Remember the vow you made to God... You took out the money to buy your life... Our life will be sold to you..."

After saying that, the two fell to the ground and didn't move any longer.

The British militia who were still scared gave a breath this time, "What a terrifying mercenary, how much did these Irish people spend? How could they have so much money? Oh no, the carriage has rushed to the arsenal, everyone hurry up and return to the aid!"

A group of chaotic militia were like ducks and realized the most serious problem and chased towards the fire chariots, but at this moment, the two corpses on the ground suddenly moved.

"Die..." The bayonet pierced the heart of the militia beside him, and the wires on his waist were burning.

"No..." Amid amid the terrified screams, two muffled sounds, the mercenaries and dozens of British militias around him lay down.

The tragic scene made the British who were trying to reinforce the situation scare and be submissive. The psychological advantage that had been built on Ireland for many years was completely smashed by these mercenaries who were like killing gods.

They didn't know how to defeat such enemies, and they didn't know how such a fierce battle would cause the Irish people to transform.

The British could guess that countless Irish people must have participated in this riot launched by the mercenaries, and even watched it in the dark.

When the Irish people saw that the mercenaries had torn apart the invincible skin of the British, how could the psychology of those people not change?

The Moors in the distance had no time to care about the life and death of their brothers behind them. In front of him, the warehouse near the north bank of the Liffe River had opened its doors, just like an unguarded little girl waiting for his ravages.

Opposite the rolling river water is the residence of the British Governor of Ireland. The Irish Fort built by the British. In the dark night, the torches on the city walls outline the majestic figure of the fortress. I don’t know how many enemies there are hidden in it.

"Enemy attacks...there is an enemy attack!" The arsenal on the river bank was specially built by the British to set fires, and the most important flammable products are stored here.

Kerosene, torches, semi-finished products and raw materials, and even a batch of cotton and woolen cloth to make military uniforms.

These materials are worth more than 600,000 pounds. The British left a company of defenders here to defend themselves. When two tanks rushed to about 100 meters, the defenders immediately sounded the alarm.

Rifles stretched out from behind the fence. Amid the nervous military orders, the British defenders began to gather fire and fired at the carriage with bullets.

The Moor pulled out the dog-headed knife from his mouth with one hand and shouted, "The chariots are arranged in front and back, cover me..."

The two chariots that were parallel began to change lanes at this moment, and the other carriage accelerated to the front of the Moors and twisted the S-shaped progress on the road. They were using their bodies to block the rain of bullets for the brothers behind.

Pup puff puff... The bullet shot through the human body and made a dull sound. The blood beads splattered onto the Moor's face with the wind. At this moment, he had already begun to make the final preparations for the statement.

Brothers tied their last four bottles to the Moore Warrior "Brother! I'm all counting on you! We'll cover you, we'll die in front of you first!"

"Jump the car..." The mercenaries jumped off the carriage from both sides and rolled on the ground at the speed of the car to resolve the impact. When they stopped, they immediately entered the shooting state.

The mortal mercenaries gave up their lying posture and squatting posture at all, and did not even look for any cover. They just held guns and shot while charging forward quickly.

It's getting closer and closer! When the chariot in front rushed to more than 40 meters away from the warehouse gate, the two horses pulling the cart could not hold on anymore. The bullet ended the horse's life. The horses screaming in Xilulu rolled on the ground. The truck rolled over, the kerosene barrel was broken, and the kerosene sprayed everywhere.
Chapter completed!