Industrial Cthulhu doesn't believe in the end times.

Chapter 140 "It's the Duanlang Type I Psionic Destroyer!"

With improved visibility and smoother communication, the combination of these two factors means that artillery support efficiency has been further enhanced.

This iron rain, which once transformed into the Grim Reaper on the battlefield and reaped the lives of countless warriors in this world for hundreds of years, still falls across the wilderness with a terrifying shriek, wielding its deadly scythe against inhuman beings.

This time, like the javelins and stone axes made by primitive people, they returned to their proper role and truly fought for the future of mankind.

Even so, countless zombies still rushed across the fire line and surged towards this small village. The newly built bridgehead was like a small boat tossed about by this tide.

"Fight! Win this round! Only if we win will we have time to repair the railway!"

Shouts rang in their ears, but needless to say, they dared not slacken their efforts for a moment.

Sun Qi and his men occupied one of the few two-story buildings in the small village. Compared with Baita Town, the situation here was indeed much worse. If it weren't for the help of new equipment, they would hardly have been able to hold this place.

The machine gun barrels were already glowing red, but the group didn't even have time to replace them. The zombies were charging like an endless tide, and if they relaxed their guard even slightly, they would cross the danger line.

"Damn it, if I had known, I would have risked everything to steal a water-type ability user!"

The squad leader spat and said again, "Hang in there a little longer, get the comrades who need to change the barrels ready, it'll be soon!"

The soldiers knew what he meant by "soon," and fortunately, they didn't have to wait long. Suddenly, a beam of light burst in from one side of the battlefield, like wind blowing away dust and water washing away filth. The many zombies in front of them melted away in that light in just a moment.

Three oddly shaped armored vehicles, under the cover of more conventional armored vehicles, rushed across the battlefield and headed towards another position without stopping.

Everyone breathed a sigh of relief and seized this rare moment of free time to replace gun barrels and prepare ammunition.

"Thanks to these Prism Tanks, when can we build the Prism Tower?"

"What Prism Tank? That's not a laser cannon, it's a psionic jet." Someone with inside information shook his head and said, "That thing isn't a tank either. Its full name is Broken Wave Type 1 Psionic Lens Destroyer."

"If you don't understand, just call it a Prism Tank."

They had barely exchanged two sentences when the horde of zombies charged at them again.

"These zombies have gotten really smart."

As they fired again, they couldn't help but curse.

"The artillery suppression is becoming less and less effective. I suspect that if this continues, these zombies will eventually learn to charge in three-on-three formations."

"It's not like this has been happening for the first time. We have a good view here. Instead of wasting your time, why don't you take a closer look and see if you can find the zombie lord?"

"I was just about to say that, but these bastards are getting better and better at hiding their true intentions."

"Hey, I broke the rules! They don't allow us to call people animals."

They still had to shout to communicate, and even then, they might not be heard. Suddenly, someone pointed at the road in the distance and exclaimed, "What's that?"

The men didn't stop fighting, their eyes fixed on that direction—in fact, with their fighting style, killing zombies only required maintaining a dense barrage of fire; they didn't necessarily need good eyesight. Some had already been gazing into the distance, hoping to find the zombie lord as soon as possible. Now, following the direction the previous person had pointed, they were immediately taken aback. On the highway near Haizhou in the far distance, a billowing cloud of dust was rushing towards them at a speed exceeding that of many zombies.

"It looks like... a tank!"

Some superhumans squinted, while others had already picked up binoculars.

"It's a tank, a Type 96A!"

"Are you crazy, holy crap?"

"Wait a minute, that looks like it came out from inside?"

"Holy crap, where did this Superman come from?"

Everyone watched helplessly as the 96A tank rampaged through the horde of zombies, their hearts pounding with anxiety. Suddenly, the squad leader shouted, "Quick, quickly send a message to the rear! Don't let the artillerymen crack them open!"

The battlefield is not a game; friendly fire is an unavoidable part of combat. How to avoid accidentally blowing up your own people in coordinated operations is a problem that has plagued all countries on Earth since ancient times.

In some countries, more people are killed by friendly fire than by enemy fire during a single war.

In the current battle, the size of the corps' artillery is being increased every day. They are now recklessly throwing shells onto the battlefield, consuming ammunition by the railcar every hour. If a high-explosive shell happens to hit the head of a tank... let alone just the head, even if it lands next to it, it could knock out the crew inside.

In a conventional war, these unconscious crew members could be rescued after the battle or allowed to rejoin the fight once they woke up. However, if they fall into a coma during a zombie horde, they will never wake up. People have seen many vehicles disappear without a trace after being overwhelmed by the zombies.

Even without physical contact, the people inside the car turned into zombies.

The vehicle in front of them was clearly maneuvering nimbly, dodging left and right to avoid being surrounded by numerous zombies, and weaving into areas where the zombies were less dense. They couldn't stop; if they stopped even for a moment, death would be their only fate.

On such a vast battlefield, zombies naturally didn't swarm across every inch of land. They poured out from every corner of the city and crossed the wilderness to rush towards the defense line. Even though they could see the edge of the city, it was still a dozen or more kilometers away from actually reaching it.

Therefore, the zombies naturally kept their distance from each other due to their different speeds, and there may also be some control measures taken by the zombie lords to avoid excessive losses due to artillery fire.

Only when they are blocked by the defensive line will they quickly form dense, stereotypical hordes of corpses.

It was in this gap that the tank had its chance. It was incredibly agile, dodging and weaving, or accelerating and charging forward. This steel behemoth with a combat weight of over forty tons reached a speed of over sixty kilometers per hour on the road, and for a time it was truly unstoppable.

But no one could rest easy. Tanks are undoubtedly powerful, but they are also fragile. No one could guarantee that the vehicle wouldn't suddenly break down under such high-intensity operation.

Someone had already messaged the artillery and reported the situation on the ground. A few minutes later, the artillery shells clearly avoided this area.

"Look, those Prism Tanks are going up to provide support!"

"It's the Duanlang Type I psionic destroyer!"

"Forget all that, let's keep the zombies under control! The pressure is about to increase!"

(End of this chapter)