nycdaug 14. The enemy known as the "White Army"
14. The enemy known as the "White Army"
Ilyich often looked in a certain direction with tearful eyes, then fiddled with his clay, while two men on horseback were approaching him.
He quickly stood up and tried to leave, but his body prevented him from moving quickly.
One of the riders muttered, "Old man, come here!"
Ilyich glanced at him and stopped.
In those chaotic years of war, he had seen many people in military uniforms. Regardless of which side they belonged to, they would often take away feed and flour without asking any questions.
He hates this type of person.
"Hurry up, you old bastard!"
Ilyich took another step, then a few steps back, glancing sideways at the newcomer.
“We are from the ‘Redwitt Alliance,’ old man, don’t be afraid,” another rider said with a friendly expression. “We were chasing bandits, we just got separated from the group. Hmm, perhaps you saw a group pass by here yesterday?”
"Yes, I have."
"Where did they go, old man?"
"Who knows about them!"
"Is there nothing left on your farm?"
"no."
Do you have a gun?
"No!"
Hearing this, the man laughed, his expression instantly changing. He jumped off his saddle, walked gleefully to the old man, spat out a mouthful of phlegm, and said, "Old man, we're chasing after the remnants of the 'Redwit Alliance.' As for who we are, that's none of your business. Your job is to prepare food for those seventy horses!"
Ilyich seemed to want to say something.
"Stop arguing, get it done right now," the man patted his sidearm at his waist. "Understand? Where's your food?"
"No," Ilyich replied, his answer still brief.
"So what's stored in this granary?!" The man pointed to the granary, which was only twenty steps away from them.
"All sorts of junk...no food..."
"Alright! Let's go take a look! What's inside?"
The man grabbed Ilyich by the collar, shoved him hard with his knee, and dragged him to the entrance of the granary.
He kicked open the granary door.
The door opened, and the room was filled with millet and barley.
"What is this? Isn't it grain, you old liar?"
"It's grain... This is the payment for grinding wheat for others. It's what my family has painstakingly saved up over the past year, it's for my son..." At the mention of his son, Ilyich fell silent. "Are you going to use it to feed the horses...?"
"Oh, so according to you, all our horses are going to starve to death? What do you mean by this—supporting those rebels and courting death?" With that, the man pulled out the gun from his waist and shoved it into the old man's mouth.
"Have mercy... good man, why are you making things difficult for me!" Ilyich knelt down. "Forgive my foolish words, forgive my attitude, I'm sorry, please don't kill me."
"Swear to God you don't support those rebels..." The man said angrily, looking at the old man making the sign of the cross. "Don't make the sign of the cross, you need to eat dirt!"
Ilyich grabbed a handful of sand and chewed it with his toothless mouth, tears streaming down his face.
"Yes, now I believe you. Get up, old man!"
When the man saw that the old man's legs were too numb to stand up, he laughed loudly, "Remember my name, I'm Krasnov."
Soon a group of horsemen arrived and carried the barley and wheat away from the granary. The wheat was scattered at the horses' feet, and the yard was covered with a layer of golden wheat grains.
Suddenly, a child came running from a distance, shouting, "Grandpa Ilyich! Grandpa Ilyich!"
Ilyich was horrified and shouted at the child, "Don't come any closer! Don't come any closer!"
But it was too late. The man, the fellow named Krasnov, brandished his saber and rode towards the child. "Little brat, simple-minded and impetuous, you've come here to die."
He slung himself off the saddle, brandished his saber, and in an instant felt a body soften under his blade, falling to the ground without struggling.
He dismounted, pulled the binoculars off the boy, looked at the two legs that were still twitching slightly, glanced around, sat down, and began to peel off the thin leather boots from the boy's legs.
He used one foot to press down on the creaking knee and deftly pulled off one boot. The other boot was probably stuck in a sock and couldn't be pulled off.
He cursed viciously, then pulled hard, pulling the boots and socks off together.
After doing all this, Krasnov rode back on his horse, boasting to Ilyich, "My son may be mute, but he's much smarter than him. He wouldn't have rushed over at this time."
"You beast! You beast!" Ilyich shouted angrily. He tried to rush forward, but his weak body caused him to fall to the ground after only a few steps.
Meanwhile, Rochester and his party, who witnessed all of this in the nearby forest, were instantly enraged.
Everything happened too fast, or rather, neither Rochester nor the players expected that the guy named Krasnov would turn his knife on the child.
They were trying to help Ilyich; they were occupying a favorable position, but...
"Damn it," Guo Ruhe cursed under his breath, then looked at Rochester, "Company Commander Rochester, let me go and kill him."
Rochester could feel the players around him breathing heavily—they were furious.
But everyone held back and didn't rush up to shoot that bastard.
The map shows about a dozen enemy soldiers and displays their information; this is a "White Army".
They mentioned seventy horses, meaning it was a cavalry unit, and their main force had not yet arrived.
Revealing the information now would be very troublesome; they would need to silently eliminate a dozen or so enemies and then set up an ambush...
This player-organized unit is highly disciplined; even when they are burning with anger, they suppress it in the face of the bigger picture.
The man from the wrong path slowly crept over from one side with four players. "Commander Rochester, there are sixteen people in total, two officers, each with weapons, and sixteen horses."
"They are currently very widely dispersed."
Rochester looked at the minimap and, just as the man from the wrong path had said, seven or eight red dots were moving away from their direction, and there were only three people inside the Illich Farm.
"Take out those three first, then each of you find a spot."
Rochester issued a new assignment.
[Immediate Mission: Reconnoiter the Village Ahead]
[Task Completed]
[Medal[20] has been awarded]
[Mission Update: Annihilate all enemies in the village ahead]
[Reward: Merit Points [40]]
...
The back of the grain warehouse.
Piles of sacks filled with food were stacked up, having just been moved from the granary.
A White Army soldier, with his back to him, was reaching his arm deep into the sack, searching for something; his shoulder blades arched like two mountains under his overcoat.
Unbeknownst to him, Guo Ruhe had already stealthily moved behind him.
Three steps.
Two steps.
Just as the White Army soldiers were lifting a sack of food out of it.
Guo Ruhe's arms clamped shut like iron pincers, his joints gripping the other man's Adam's apple—he lifted him up, his left knee simultaneously plunging into his lower back. The White Army soldier's back arched violently, the sack slipping from his hands. The whimper was stifled in his trachea, turning into a series of gurgling sounds like bursting bubbles.
He looked at the horse beside him in despair, wanting to say something.
But the horse just snorted and continued chewing.
Guo Ruhe dragged him to a nearby haystack and took the man's belt and ammunition pouch.
Another person did the same thing.
With the two White Army soldiers guarding the Ilyich granary killed, only Krasnov remained.