Chương 172: Sniper Company, Part 2

Other marksmen quickly acquired their targets and opened fire. A chorus of sharp cracks echoed through the deep forest as ten snipers pulled their triggers; nine shots found their mark. Nine trolls either collapsed instantly or clutched their blood-gushing chests, howling in pain. Never having faced such an attack before, the trolls fell into utter chaos, frantically scanning the surrounding woods with wide, terrified eyes.

Seeing that the enemy had failed to locate their position, Gob-Bow held off on issuing a retreat. Instead, he signaled his marksmen to reload on the spot and delivered a second volley. BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! Eight more trolls crumpled to the dirt along the game path, escalating the panic among their ranks. This time, however, the heavy reek of gunpowder reached their nostrils. A war-marked troll pointed straight toward Gob-Bow's concealed position.

"Enemies over there! Charge! Kill them!!" The trolls unleashed bloodthirsty roars, surging forward while swinging their heavy cleavers. Gob-Bow immediately ordered a retreat. The ten foliage-covered figures withdrew swiftly, moving with fluid grace. Their incredible speed, paired with suits that blended seamlessly into the forest, left the trolls baffled. Within seconds, the goblins had flickered out of sight, vanishing into the green canopy. Leading the charge were fifty war-marked trolls.

Though bloated like massive balls of flesh, the divine grace of the God of Gluttony granted them terrifying speed, allowing them to outpace even ordinary trolls. Yet, as they reached the area, their prey had vanished without a trace. They froze, completely lost on where to turn. Before they could decide, a thunderous roar echoed from a patch of thick brush in the distance. The war-marked trolls shrieked in agony as ten of their number collapsed simultaneously.

"Aaargh! Enemies over there!!" A war-marked troll pointed to a cluster of bushes two hundred meters away where a cloud of white smoke was drifting into the air. Forty remaining war-marked trolls charged the position with feral screams, swinging their heavy iron cleavers in a frenzy, shearing the bushes flat to the earth. Yet, there was no one there. The war-marked trolls stood baffled. They exchanged bewildered looks, uncertain of their next move.

In the very next second, another thunderous volley erupted from a different direction, bringing another wave of trolls crashing to the ground in agonized screams. In the blink of an eye, fifty war-marked trolls had been reduced to thirty—without ever laying eyes on their unseen tormentors. Fear crept into their hearts. They stared into the thick jungle with widened eyes, as if invisible demons were lurking behind every tree, waiting to harvest their souls. The moment they froze, the snipers began creeping closer.

Gob-Bow led three sniper fireteams to circle the remaining thirty-odd war-marked trolls, unleashing a coordinated volley. The trolls collapsed like cut grain until only a single warrior remained standing. The lone survivor froze for a moment before letting out a hysterical shriek. Throwing his weapon to the ground, he turned and fled in sheer terror. From that point on, Gob-Bow led his snipers in a relentless harassment campaign against the main troll host.

With every volley, double-digit numbers of trolls were cut down. A mere hundred goblins held thousands of trolls in check, plunging their morale to the brink of collapse. Gulush was on the verge of a complete psychological breakdown. The enemy was as slippery as oil—impossible to catch, yet capable of sniping his elite warriors from absurd distances. How was anyone supposed to fight like this?!

He recalled stories told by trolls who had migrated from the north: the elves in those distant lands fought the exact same way, striking with magic bows from hidden positions in the woods without ever showing themselves. But we are fighting goblins, for god's sake! What, are you goblins long-eared sub-species of elves now?! How can you kill from so far away?!

"The enemy numbers are small! Chase them to the death! Keep pushing! Do not fear—hunt them down and kill every last one!!" Gulush bellowed, reordering his ranks and dispatching over five hundred trolls in full pursuit. He had realized that the enemy force was small, picking off only a dozen warriors per volley. As long as he kept a dedicated contingent pursuing them without pause, the attackers would have no chance to stop, load, and strike again. It was a solid tactic, but Gob-Bow was already three steps ahead.

Realizing that the pursuing force was pressing too closely for his squad to safely stop and reload, Gob-Bow immediately led three sniper fireteams toward a pre-selected ambush point. The ambush site was a shallow depression surrounded by high ground. Reaching the elevated ridge, Gob-Bow and his men reached into wooden crates stored there beforehand, pulling out sticks of wooden-handled grenades. This was the latest infantry weapon designed by Li Qinwu.

In appearance, it closely resembled the stick grenades of his former world, albeit in a much cruder form. Stolen novel; please report. The main body consisted of a spherical, cast-iron shell scored with grid patterns designed to fragment upon detonation. The wooden handle lacked an internal friction igniter; its sole purpose was to grant soldiers leverage for longer throws. The ignition mechanism was situated at the base of the shell beneath a small ceramic cap.

Unscrewing the cap revealed a fuse that could be ignited with an open flame before throwing. The primary technical bottleneck of a grenade was the delay fuse—a chemical component Li Qinwu had no means to manufacture. Lacking chemical delay fuses, he had no choice but to rely on the simplest slow-burning match cord. Though it looked like a proper military grenade, it was, in truth, an extremely crude, black-powder match-lit explosive.

Yet despite its crudeness, the weapon embodied Li Qinwu's favorite design philosophy: absolute brute force. Packed with 2. 5 kilograms of black powder inside a 0. 5-kilogram iron casing, every single grenade packed terrifying destructive power. Gob-Bow quickly unscrewed the ceramic cap at the bottom of the shell and straightened the fuse for quick lighting. The other marksmen readied their grenades alongside him. Just as they finished their preparations, the troll pursuers burst into the shallow depression.

They surged into the hollow in a chaotic mass before coming to a sudden halt, unsure which path the goblins had taken.

"THROW!!" Gob-Bow shouted, using a flip-top lighter to ignite the fuse of his stick grenade before hurling it into the dense crowd below. The flip-top lighters were clever gadgets crafted by Li Qinwu. Powered by kerosene, their design was simple yet mechanically precise. The first production run of these lighters had been issued directly to snipers and officers for lighting fuses on grenades and demolition charges—and now, they proved their worth. The first wave of thirty grenades rained down into the crowd.

Several struck trolls directly on their shoulders and heads. The giants looked down at the smoking objects, utterly confused as to what these strange little cylinders were. A few trolls, recognizing that the objects were made of valuable iron, even picked them up and shoved them into their loincloth pockets—thinking they could bring them back for the village blacksmith to forge into daggers. In the next instant, the fuses burned down. BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

A series of violent explosions erupted in the depression as the trapped trolls shrieked in agony. No matter how physically imposing their bodies were, they remained carbon-based lifeforms; no amount of dense muscle could shield them from shrapnel driven by exploding gunpowder. Those who had stuffed the smoking iron cylinders into their pockets were torn in two, their inner organs scattered across the mud. BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

Kneeling on the high ground, Gob-Run and his marksmen ignited and threw grenade after grenade without pause. The explosives fell like a storm of iron, tearing through the towering giants. Thirty goblins hurled an average of five grenades each—one hundred and fifty heavy charges in total. The relentless bombardment filled the hollow with thick smoke and dirt, entirely obscuring the scene below.

Yet the horrifying screams rising from the pit made it abundantly clear that the pursuing force was being utterly annihilated. When the smoke finally drifted away, Gob-Bow looked down to see the hollow carpeted with troll corpses and writhing survivors. The physical resilience of the trolls was truly formidable; several had taken over ten shrapnel wounds and yet remained alive, screaming on the ground with surprising vigor. Seeing this, Gob-Bow shouted, "Fix bayonets! Finish them!!"

The snipers snapped long bayonets onto the muzzles of their rifles and surged down the slope, driving the steel blades deep into the trolls' necks to end their suffering.

"Move! Back to the fight!!" Gob-Bow yelled, leading his men back to continue harassing the main troll host. He was brimming with excitement. This sniper-harassment tactic taught to him by the Boss was outrageously effective. His company had slain many times their own numbers without suffering a single casualty. The sheer sense of accomplishment filled him with exhilaration. He wanted to earn merit—a truly grand merit! And that opportunity arrived far sooner than expected.

Gob-Bow led his squad back toward the main trail, but his limited knowledge of the local terrain worked against him. Intending to cut ahead of the troll column to set up another ambush, he accidentally stumbled right into the middle of their marching formation—right where the King of Gluttony was being carried on his bone throne. Peering through the foliage, Gob-Bow gasped. Woah! What a massive pile of lard!

The creature resembled a walking mountain of meat, covered so densely in dark ritual tattoos that hardly any bare skin was visible. Carried aloft by six bloated war-marked trolls, this target was the absolute high-value objective of a lifetime! Gob-Bow immediately signaled his marksmen to fan out and target the giant fat lump, planning to blow him apart with a single, massive salvo. The snipers moved with practiced speed, setting up their rifles and aiming in unison. BANG! BANG! BANG!

Over thirty heavy bullets tore through the air, heading straight for the King of Gluttony. Deep in sleep and raised high on his throne, the King presented an unmissable target. All thirty-plus rounds struck home—most sinking deep into his mountain of flesh, while several slammed directly into his head. The bullets sank into the King's thick layer of fat without resistance, sending ripples across his flesh like stones dropped into a pond.

As for the rounds aimed at his head, they smashed against his skull as if striking solid armor plate, flattening into harmless scraps of metal. At the sound of gunfire, the surrounding trolls panicked, shouting incoherently as they looked around for the source of the attack. Amidst the chaos, the sleeping King of Gluttony suddenly opened his tiny eyes and sat upright. Using the thumb of his short, stubby hand, he dug into his temple and plucked out a flattened lead bullet.

He stared at his thumb, noticing a smear of dark blood on his skin.

"Oh my... I'm bleeding." His voice was terrifyingly calm. The black tattoos across his skin began to squirm violently like living centipedes, and his eyes—squeezed into tiny slits by rolls of fat—turned completely, pitch black. He turned his neck with a stiff, unnatural jerk, locking his gaze onto Gob-Bow concealed in the brush three hundred meters away. Thick, foul-smelling saliva dripped heavily from his massive jaws.

"Oh? Goblins? Hmm how long has it been since I last ate a goblin? Hmm goblin flesh tastes terrible, if I recall... Hmm~ I seem to have forgotten the flavor. No matter." He peeled back his wide lips, exposing black gums and a mouth full of rotten, jagged teeth in a grotesquely twisted smile.

"I'll know once I take a bite." WHOOSH—BOOM! The King of Gluttony catapulted forward with explosive power, launching himself directly off the bone throne and flying over thirty meters through the air! The bone throne shattered into splinters from the force of his leap. The six war-marked trolls carrying the throne collapsed screaming, their arms snapping from the massive recoil.

"MWAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!! GOBLINS!!! I'M GOING TO EAT, EAT, EAT, EAT!!!" The King of Gluttony sprinted forward at a speed that defied all physical logic. His immense velocity caused his massive layers of fat to ripple violently, resembling heavy waves crashing across a stormy lake. Three hundred meters away, as Gob-Bow attempted to reload, a sudden, suffocating dread seized his chest. He felt an incomprehensible terror barreling toward him—every cell in his body screamed in outrage, his instincts howling in pure panic.

His hair standing on end, Gob-Bow let out a frantic shriek: "RUN! RUN FOR YOUR LIVES!!"