Chapter 43 (1/2)

In the past, the Bastille sharpshooters were able to hold down the Andes mountain people, relying on their own equipment advantages. They not only had the elaborate military bow, but also the exquisite nail inlaid leather armor. In addition, they had abundant logistic supplies, which were far beyond the helpless Andes mountain people.

Now there's a fundamental reversal, and Sean and the junior army are better equipped than the Bastille soldiers, and they have everything.

In other words, the dried meat of the Army food has fully considered the nutritional problems. Although the standard military food only weighs 10 pounds, it is enough to support the intensive consumption of an adult hunter for a week.

There are several mobile supply stations behind them to replenish all kinds of supplies for them.

The soldiers of Bastille have turned into rootless duckweeds this time. Although the Bastille troops are pushing forward ceaselessly in the rear and can give them certain assistance, they will bring certain supplies with them this time. When they fight, they will be afraid of their hands and feet and suffer losses.

The arrows that I carry with me usually run out in a few minutes, and they don't have the ability of using local materials like Andes mountain people. In the end, they either fight hand to hand or are chased around like rabbits.

The final result is usually not very good. In the case of complete exposure, more hunters will be attracted. In the end, the death of being beaten up is small. If one accidentally exposes one's companions, it will be a series of deaths.

The marksman that Arnold is tracking falls into this kind of situation. Half a day ago, the other side wilfully killed a rifle and ran into Arnold.

The fight between the two people instantly into the heat, the nervous Archer spent a short period of three minutes, then the two pots of arrows carried with him were shot empty.

The archery of the other side is absolutely right. He not only has a super speed, but also has an amazing accuracy. Especially the arrow that the two people met face to face. Even in retrospect, Arnold is still scared.

In his stupefied effort, the other side's arrow appeared in front of him like a meteor. He only had time to lower his head and was hit. Arnold felt that his forehead was heavily hit, and his neck was almost dislocated. The new helmet saved his life. The arrow only managed to pass through three layers of cow hide, with insufficient stamina and only a little skin.

”The arrow that hasn't been shot out is the most threatening one. As an excellent Archer, you should always keep the last arrow in your arrow pot.”

When the young leader of Bastille talked about archers, Arnold was deeply impressed by this theory. This truth is not profound. Since all the old hunters who have some experience, they have such experience, but no one has ever summed them up in penetrating language.

Arnold hasn't had time to prove the latter sentence, but the current situation has proved the correctness of the former statement.

When he was just shooting, Arnold consciously controlled his arrow speed. Each shot was not so much killing the enemy as luring him to spend his arrows. When his arrow pot was empty, what else could he do?

Close to hand combat, there is no chance.

Arnold has at least one and a half pots of arrows, and his shooting skills are better than those of his opponent. If the other side really dares to rush out of the shelter, he will tell him with facts what a human hedgehog looks like.

The rest is cat and mouse.

The archer, who had no arrow, fled in front, and Arnold chased after him. In the process of pursuing, he even recovered some arrows from both sides.

As an excellent old hunter, Arnold is very aware of how terrible a beast is, let alone a man.

What Arnold has to do now is to keep pace with the other party, keep driving him until he is exhausted, and then shoot a fatal arrow. In this process, we must also reasonably divide our own rest time, so that our energy and physical strength do not fall and pass the line.

Wrong step, wrong step.

The desperate marksman is like a headless fly. When he is in a hurry, he can't help but move closer to the companion he knows. He wants to get rid of the haunting trouble by his companion's hand.

However, he soon found that his companions were in greater trouble than he was. Not only did he have enemies behind him, but also he was injured. The most important thing was to hurt his legs. He hurt his legs in guerrilla warfare, which was no different from losing his life.

This marksman has no spirit. He doesn't care about the friendship of paoze. He turns his head and walks faster than a rabbit.

In the face of the threat of life and death, people's sentiment can become very high. It is a saint's behavior to give up their own lives for others. However, such people are rare, and they are more common people and villains who are desperate for their own survival.

The threat of a desperate marksman is still limited, but when this situation appears in a dozen or even dozens of people, the victory or defeat of the outpost will be silent.

The victory of an outpost is not measured by the number of people killed, but by the amount of useful information that the other party's Sentry can bring back.