Trench Bolts and Magic

Chapter 21 No world is short of scumbags

Morin's gaze swept across the system map, where the small icons representing enemy patrols were clearly visible.

This one-way transparent information advantage is their greatest asset.

“No, we’re moving on.” Morin made a decision that surprised everyone.

"Sir?!" Corporal Bowman's voice changed.

"Follow my orders."

Morin's voice wasn't loud, but it carried an undeniable decisiveness.

“We won’t take the main roads; we’ll go through these country lanes and woodlands to get closer to the outskirts of the city and then assess the situation.”

He pointed to the gaps between the patrol team icons on the map and mentally planned a completely new route.

"Everyone hide your bicycles. We're going on foot. Remember, don't make a sound."

The soldiers looked at each other, but ultimately chose to obey.

Led by Morin, the six-man squad began to roam the outskirts of Seville like ghosts.

The closer you get to the city, the more tense the atmosphere becomes.

Morin focused almost all his attention on the minimap in his field of vision.

Just then, several moving red diamond-shaped icons suddenly flashed along the edge of the map.

[Kingdom Army Patrol Team (Size: 12 people)]

"Stop! Take cover!"

Morin suddenly waved his hand, his voice extremely low.

Everyone immediately lay down in the nearest irrigation ditch, which was about half a person's height. The ditch seemed to have been abandoned and was overgrown with weeds, which would provide cover for Morin and his group.

Half a minute later, a group of lazy Kingdom soldiers, cigarettes dangling from their lips, walked across the ridge of a field not far from where they were hiding in the ditch.

They walked along complaining, completely unaware of the danger lurking nearby.

Only when the red dots disappeared from the map did Morin breathe a sigh of relief and gesture for everyone to continue.

Corporal Bowman's gaze toward Morin held even greater admiration.

The platoon leader was like someone with a third eye, always able to foresee danger.

What they didn't know was that what seemed like an incredible prediction to them was nothing more than having the 'full map' open to Morin, who possessed the system map.

The enemy's movements were almost transparent to him.

Using this information advantage, they bypassed several patrols without incident and successfully infiltrated the outskirts of Seville.

When they managed to infiltrate a residential area on the outskirts of Seville without incident, what they saw gave Morin a completely new understanding of the army's limits.

On the street, small groups of Kingdom soldiers were leaning against the wall, basking in the sun.

Some even swaggered into roadside cafes, 'taking' coffee and snacks from the terrified owners without paying a single penny.

Not far away, in a corner, several soldiers were playing cards and making a lot of noise.

This doesn't look like an army about to face a major battle at all; it's clearly a group of bandits who have occupied the city!
But then, something even more outrageous happened.

Four men dressed in smart military uniforms laughed loudly and forcibly dragged three young girls away from the street.

Ignoring their screams and resistance, they dragged them directly into a two-story building that appeared to have been requisitioned.

The surrounding soldiers were used to it; some even whistled and laughed.

When the girl's family and some angry citizens rushed forward to argue, the soldiers immediately raised their rifles.

The dark muzzles of guns were pointed at these unarmed compatriots, keeping them firmly outside.

This scene deeply shocked Morin, who came from a peaceful era. He found it hard to associate these thugs who bullied the weak, acted lawlessly, and even pointed guns at their own people with the word 'army'.

Or perhaps he could only imagine the dark ages of his homeland in another world, where warlords and reactionary armies were probably like this.
In his anger, a bold idea also arose in his mind.

These overconfident officers were practically a doorstep for a breakthrough.

He noticed that although the soldiers had stopped the civilians, no one dared to approach the two-story building.

Clearly, they didn't want to disturb their superiors' 'pleasures'.

This also means that the building has now become a relatively independent and safe target.

A cold glint flashed in Morin's eyes.

How can those who have seen the light tolerate darkness?

He gestured to Corporal Bowman and the others behind him, pointing to the back of the small building.

Everyone understood immediately.

They quietly bypassed the street and, using the buildings as cover, quickly arrived at the backyard of the small building.

Just as Maureen had predicted, there were no guards around.

The courtyard wall wasn't high, and they easily climbed over it.

In the backyard of the small building, only some hens huddled against the wall, showing no reaction to Morin and his uninvited guests.

It was as if they had tacitly approved of something.

The cries of the girls and the maniacal laughter coming from upstairs fueled the anger of Corporal Bowman and his men, and provided them with perfect cover for their actions.

Morin gestured for everyone to sling their rifles behind their backs.

He pulled the sling of his Gew.98 rifle to its shortest length, so that the rifle was pressed tightly against his back, and then held it loosely with his hand to reduce bumps and noises during movement.

This nearly 1.3-meter-long rifle is an accurate weapon for killing enemies in open areas, but it becomes a burden in such a narrow indoor environment.

Others immediately followed suit.

"bayonet!"

Morin gave the order in a whisper.

"Shh-"

A few soft metallic scraping sounds rang out, and the six men, including Morin, drew their S1898 bayonets from their scabbards.

The standard bayonet of the Saxon Empire Army is currently over half a meter long.

It was less like a knife and more like a short sword, gleaming with a cold, sharp light in the dim light.

Morin knew very well that the world had not yet been traumatized by trench warfare, so the development of cold weapons for ordinary soldiers was basically at a standstill.

Before the advent of professional combat knives and military daggers, this was already the best weapon they could use in close-quarters combat indoors.

He led the way to the back door of the building, only to find that the door was ajar.

He gently pushed the door open a crack, listened intently for a moment, and after confirming that no one was downstairs, he led the way and slipped inside.

A scent of alcohol and cologne wafted towards me.

They tiptoed to the top of the stairs on the second floor, where the noise from upstairs grew louder.

"What are you struggling for? Country bumpkins like you wouldn't even be fit for my bed in the north!"

"It is an honor for you to serve us, and you should be grateful!"

"We're helping you fight the rebels and the Saxons, we're risking our lives, so you'd better serve us well!"

Listen to this, is this even human language?
(End of this chapter)