Chapter 701: Temptation (middle)

Suddenly, Grak's communicator rang.
"Boss."
A voice told him that this was his effective subordinate and deputy Kro.
"I'm thinking of using a knife."
"is it?"
"Rushing up, those idiots are breaking at the touch."
Grak smiled.
"Open up!!!"
He shouted, locked his gun on his belt, and then pulled out his tomahawk.
Double-sided cutting edge, powered by power, made of fine blue steel from the waste city, with a fierce pattern etched along the blood groove.
He called it a tearer.
He did not wait to see that his orders were executed, he rushed out of the bunker, and the bullets continued to fire on the front of his chest and his leg armor.
"Waaaagh!!!"
He made two strides and jumped into the colonnade. His steps were quick, his center of gravity was lowered, and the axe pointed upward.
Grak saw the human soldiers, hiding between huge metal pillars, and kept firing at him.
He could see their faces, pale and frightened.
Grak saw the consternation on the faces of the shrimps who were about to be unloaded by him. He heard the bodyguards follow behind him, and felt the joy of being Ok.
That guy is right.
Attacking here with guns is time-consuming and laborious. Those bunkers are good enough to reduce the firepower of the guns and to withstand the attacks of swords. In order to protect the industrial facilities here, heavy artillery cannot be used.
Bayonets, such as long-handled weapons, may not be easy to use.
But it’s not, and it’s never going to be, a battle axe swung by Ok’s arm.
The armor shattered.
In the sound of glass breaking, the sharp pieces of armor flew into the air within a microsecond of each critical blow, and then evaporated to nowhere.
Armor first, then the body inside the armor, first the outer shell, then human flesh.
Blood spewed out of the wound, either towards the early morning sky, or on the huge metal pillars between Graco and the pillar.
Each slam will trigger an explosion of internal organs, and a cloud of red smoke will be sprayed into the air, just like a pack of blood was exploded.
No matter what advantages the defenders of the Taiyang once had, they lost these advantages. When the red butchers attacked them in an ancient way of fighting, everything they had designed was meaningless.
Less than five minutes after Grak took the lead, the Goff Corps opened the entrance to the industrial zone.
"Waaaagh!!!"
Grak slammed into the crowd, with thirty executioners following him-this is the most terrifying and powerful champion in the Gough Corps, each one is the only victor who survived countless clashes
Each executioner must be at least three meters tall, with a wide shoulder and a strong body, like a cube, and there are few protective armor on the body, covered with dark red scales, which is the blood of the enemy killed by them. After leaving traces.
A huge beheading knife was held high in the air, and behind the handle was a string of pale skulls, whose roar was enough to overwhelm tens of thousands of boys.
They rushed to the end of the grand channel and came under the gate of a steel factory.
The defenders gathered in the shadow under the huge hanging door, preparing to defend the factory entrance.
The air was full of stray bullets, like the next hot rain, fire and bullets were particularly dazzling in the dark and wide passage.
The boys bowed their heads, raised their arms, and borne the gunfire, slamming into the militia like a group of thugs.
The defenders fell one after another. Although their bunkers were working, the huge impact caused them to roll back and forth on the ground and collide.
Hundreds of bodies are crowded with each other, like rippled water.
There were corpses everywhere under their feet, fingers still bent, and weapons in their hands were fired aimlessly.
The executioners slid deep, they pushed hard with their shoulders, they slashed with a knife.
Soon, the shattered corpses of the militia spilled out of their crushed bunker, and blood splattered around in the cry.
The beheading knife, which had been soaked in blood, did not stand still, waved towards the others, and picked them up into the air. Their bodies twirled over the crowd, rolled, and then hit their compatriots' necks and shoulders hard.
Some people died while standing, their bodies did not fall down due to the crowd pushing, and blood ran on the mirror-like aisles.
A huge pool of blood flowed out from under the fighting crowd, rushing in all directions along the grooves etched in the steel plate, glowing in the firelight, and a scarlet in the shadow, submerged the bottom of the drain, causing it to float The helmet looks like an island.
Most of the sounds Grak heard were the shocking shocks he made while hacking.
The ripper's grip had been stained red, a smoke was blowing on the teeth full of power, the blood on his arm holding an axe, and the blood was dripping along the corners of his armor.
The lines on his armor were constantly rubbed, and the debris covered with blood and brains scattered.
Behind all this is an ultimate happiness.
Crowe surpassed him~EbookFREE.me~ He held the hammer high, split the armor fiercely, split the waist, hips and ribs, splitting the enemy's body in two.
This is a destructive, monotonous mechanical battle, more like doing farm work than fighting.
He was harvesting a road leading to the depths of the factory among the enemy. He was harvesting his crops, like a worker working in the field, waving his hammer with a stroke.
On the left side of Grak, neuroman Toman is more like doing sports.
His metal rod is relatively long, and he teases the militia who are constantly struck by him, as if trying to deal with them and test their combat skills.
But no one met his challenge. They were all busy and stumbled away from his slaughter-like assault route. What kid particularly likes to use force to lift the enemy into the sky, and then smash them on the ground in front of his feet on.
Grak could hear him shouting at his enemies, encouraging them to deal with him, and he scornfully complained about their attempts to escape.
In the end, whether he was facing him or his back, he killed them.
As for Grak himself, he prefers the textbook-style assault method-the battle axe is raised to the chest and used to push, which is really cruel, it is like rolling a heavy fruit into a group of toy soldiers, Then watched them knocked down and washed down.
The assault was so fierce that a brown blood mist rose from the front and drifted in the sun.
The brigade of the legion immediately followed the passage behind them, and the deep lake formed by blood stains swelled outward, and there was some kind of pressure in it that made it spread.
The corpses that fell on the smooth, polished floor twirled end to end in the bloodstream, like driftwood trapped in an overflowing river.