Chapter 133: Crossfire

Seeing Long Er’s gesture, Long Si immediately pulled the safety off and chambered a round in his pistol.

At first, Mo Fei didn’t understand the meaning, but after watching Long Si’s action, he mimicked him and prepared for battle.

Long Si noticed Mo Fei’s imitation but said nothing, only lowering his voice to warn him, “If you shoot my brother, I’ll kill you.”

Sometimes, an uncooperative teammate is scarier than a formidable enemy.

Mo Fei silently gave an OK sign.

Never fired a gun or seen a movie before? As long as you don’t point it at your own people, you won’t hurt them. Simple enough.

Inside the house, the three held their breath, tense and alert. Outside, the militia searching for them suddenly opened fire for reasons unknown.

The civilians, already tense from the search, erupted into chaos at the sound of gunfire.

People scattered wildly like headless flies, desperate to escape the area.

The militia were startled too, shouting angrily at whoever fired the shots.

Footsteps, shouts, the cries of women and children—all these noisy sounds intertwined and gradually subsided without further gunfire.

Long Si checked from a window on the other side of the house and saw several off-road vehicles filled with people entering from the far side of the village.

The occupants wore uniform clothing, fully armed, carrying rifles, their expressions grim.

“The Allied Forces are here too,” Long Si muttered, feeling unlucky.

Where the Allied Forces and militia meet, a firefight is inevitable, and such a clash would inevitably affect them—just an unnecessary complication.

“If a fight breaks out when we go out, shoot the militia and help the Allied Forces,” Long Er quickly decided his stance. “If the Allied Forces win, they might find a way to repatriate us.”

If the militia wins, who knows what would happen.

Long Er and Mo Fei nodded in agreement.

The militia, having barely regained control of the street, heard the approaching vehicles and, upon seeing the Allied Forces, without any communication, tacitly opened fire.

Gunfire erupted like fireworks on New Year’s Eve, continuous and deafening.

The militia showed no regard for the civilians nearby, immediately deploying grenades and rocket launchers—area-effect weapons—filling the air with smoke and gunpowder.

One of the Allied Forces’ vehicles was hit by a rocket launcher at close range, exploding into a fireball. Soldiers inside managed to jump out amid the firefight, but the driver was less fortunate, consumed in flames along with the vehicle.

A stray bullet struck the wall inside the safe house, leaving a blackened hole.

“Move,” Long Er said decisively, opening the door. He saw a man with a red cloth tied around his arm raise his gun and fire.

When carrying out assassination missions, Long Er typically aimed for one shot to the head and two to the chest to ensure the target’s death.

Now, to speed things up, he skipped the chest shots initially, opting to shoot the torso first to disable the target, then follow with a headshot to prevent any future threat.

During training, he could empty a magazine in eight seconds. Though the situation was more complex now, his speed didn’t falter.

Bang bang, bang bang, bang bang!

Before emptying the current magazine, Long Er already had a fresh one ready in his hand. The rhythmic gunfire continued relentlessly.

The militia didn’t even have time to react; the world spun around them, and as they fell, they never saw their assailant’s face before darkness claimed them.

Not a single militiaman within Long Er’s sight survived long enough to raise their weapon against him.

In terms of individual skill, Long Er utterly annihilated this ragtag group.

Mo Fei, hiding behind the safe house door, couldn’t help but exclaim in admiration, “Is this from the Wolf Warriors mercenary division?”

“Get out!” Long Si grabbed him by the collar, roughly pushing Mo Fei out, following closely behind.

Anyone the Long siblings didn’t take out was finished off by Long Si’s gun.

Two people, two guns, they forced a suppression effect through sheer firepower.

Neither the militia nor the Allied Forces knew who these two were.

But at a time like this, origins didn’t matter; whoever helped you strike the enemy was an ally.

The Long siblings’ swift and decisive combat style inspired Mo Fei.

Gunfights always stirred the blood.

Mo Fei raised his pistol and aimed at a militiaman.

This man seemed like a small leader, wielding a machine gun and firing wildly at the Allied Forces.

He had witnessed the Long siblings’ performance earlier and realized Mo Fei was clearly on their side. Those two were unbelievably accurate, so it was natural to think Mo Fei might be a sharpshooter as well.

When the muzzle was pointed at him, the militiaman’s pupils shrank, thinking his end had come.

But to his surprise, a gunshot rang out, and a bullet dented the door of the nearby car.

Both Mo Fei and the militiaman froze.

“Missed?” Mo Fei looked at his pistol, more surprised than the militiaman. “And my arm’s tingling from the recoil.”

“Don’t make me laugh!” Long Si fired two shots, killing the militiaman, then dragged Mo Fei behind cover. “You’ve never used a gun? Don’t you know how to control recoil?”

“I grew up back home,” Mo Fei protested helplessly. “When would I have had the chance to shoot?”

Long Si was left speechless.

She had assumed Mo Fei was familiar with firearms because of his knowledge of gunpowder and explosives, but this was clearly his first time firing a gun. Missing was only natural.

“Damn it!” Long Si cursed, supporting his head as she stood. “Stay hidden here!”

Mo Fei nearly stumbled to the ground but settled behind the cover and peered out.

The Long siblings resembled terminators; they reloaded in less than two seconds after emptying their magazines, using spares kept ready or scavenged from fallen militia.

Though their shooting slowed after reloading, their aim remained deadly.

With the help of the Long siblings, the Allied Forces surged ahead. The strength difference between the two sides was never large, but the siblings cut through the militia like a wolf among sheep.

Within half an hour, the militia retreated.

Only after confirming there were no enemies left did the Allied Forces and the Long siblings finally breathe easy.

The Allied Forces’ leader had a smoking gun barrel and was cursing in Burmese.

Long Si was about to respond when another man in body armor stepped forward.

“The captain is asking if you are illegal immigrants and what your intentions are,” he said.

The Allied Forces had brought a translator?

It seemed they truly intended to round everyone up and send them back.

Long Si holstered her pistol, about to speak, when Long Er’s eyes scanned the scene, urgently asking, “Where’s Mo Fei?”

“He doesn’t know how to use a gun; I told him to stay hidden over there,” Long Si said as she dashed to the cover—only to find it empty. “Mo Fei?”