Qiao Xing had not returned all night.
High-speed machine gun barrels angrily pointed at the sky, with shell casings that had a fiery texture raining down from the mountain top.
The reckless natives, fearlessly shouting, stepped on the gas, and scrapped cars drenched in highly flammable gasoline charged down the mountain like enraged bulls. They ultimately exploded into fiery orange balls amidst the enemy's barrage of bullets.
A few dilapidated armored vehicles were particularly eye-catching. They were covered in black images of the Buddha and decorated with auspicious clouds, colorful banners, and flower petals. The paint was old and flaking, making them look rather unremarkable. Yet, the firepower of these armored vehicles was anything but ordinary, inflicting grievous losses on the enemy's formations.
