"What a massive pit..." Faced with such a treacherous situation, even Fang Senyan couldn't help but feel a surge of powerlessness.

The opponent's countermeasure had been utterly unique, attacking from a seemingly impossible angle, thus transforming their side's advantage into a decisive victory, and weakening the enemy's disadvantage into defeat!

If the Sauron side held a seven-tenths advantage before the battle began, now, the defenders had reversed that to a seven-tenths advantage. The tide had completely turned in a mere half an hour! And remember, this was only the first day of fighting!

To put it bluntly, the Orc Commander Gasmor's reactions from start to finish had all been precisely anticipated by the enemy Contractors, who delivered the most fatal strikes exactly where it counted.

Now, Gasmor was forced to confront an even more dire predicament: breaking the city was temporarily out of the question; the real issue was whether or not to attempt a rescue.

The half-orc race possessed virtually no magical talent. The spell to turn the mud to rock for the siege towers had nearly exhausted their magical reserves, meaning any magical countermeasure was almost impossible.

If Gasmor chose not to rescue his trapped soldiers, their agonizing cries echoing from the mire would utterly shatter morale. The healthy half-orc soldiers would inevitably think that if the war continued, they too, upon fighting bravely and getting wounded, would be abandoned.

But if Gasmor sent men to rescue them, it would mean pouring an incalculable number of lives into that swamp, and even then, success in achieving the strategic goal of saving them was not guaranteed.

Gasmor was trapped in an impossible dilemma; it seemed that any reaction he made would become a flaw for the enemy to exploit!

As a commander, Gasmor's weakness was once again laid bare: a lack of decisiveness.

Thousands of troops were now exposed to the enemy's overwhelming ranged fire. The morale of the defenders within Minas Tirith soared, hurling massive stones down like rain. The Contractors were operating at full power, and even more terrifyingly, the siege engines were being hit by fire oil bombs spewing black smoke, catching fire rapidly.

At such a moment, every second of hesitation by the commander resulted in the swift death of his subordinates. He had to make a rapid decision: commit everything or cut his losses.

And as soon as the trap was sprung, Fang Senyan had already predicted Gasmor's next move: no matter how long he deliberated, he would ultimately choose to rescue them.

Why?

Because while the Orc legions numbered a terrifying two hundred thousand, the Ogres only amounted to just over a hundred.

And now, at least two-thirds of these Ogres were stuck in the swamp area, struggling to push the incredibly heavy siege towers! These stout monsters, adapted to life in high-altitude regions, roared and thrashed in the mire, even wildly striking the mud around them. Regrettably, all these actions were utterly futile.

Gasmor could stomach the loss of five or six thousand elite Orcs on the front lines, but he absolutely could not tolerate the devastating defeat of losing two-thirds of his high-end fighting strength—the Ogres—at the very beginning of the engagement!

Therefore, he could only choose to reinforce the rescue effort.

Yet, Fang Senyan had determined five minutes and eleven seconds prior that Gasmor would make this decision. More importantly, even before entering this world, the think tank formed by the joint efforts of the Stockholm Team, the Silver Wing Team, and the Moses Society had all concluded the same thing: Gasmor would make this choice under these circumstances!

MCDH’s mood was akin to a high-altitude lake on the Qinghai-Tibet Plateau, reflecting blue skies, white clouds, and snowy peaks, while enduring the desolate cold winds and bone-chilling frost.

He observed the monster in his scope with this detached serenity—the monster known as an Ogre.

This creature was covered in thick, scab-like lesions across its skin. While these growths would cause unbearable itching and pain, they also granted the Ogre a natural immunity of 10-13 against physical attacks. The monster’s surface rippled slightly due to the thick subcutaneous fat, and it furiously battered the mud that had swallowed it up to its thighs. Its large, thick palms could easily heave rocks weighing hundreds of kilograms.

Suddenly, the scope filled with numerous horizontal and vertical lines, and several red dots shimmered on the Ogre's body. The largest red dot was located one-third of the way up its forehead, the smallest at its groin. Simultaneously, a system notification appeared:

“Your ability: Let the Bullets Fly is ready!”

MCDH resolutely aimed for the smallest red dot on the Ogre's body and pulled the trigger. Although a smaller red dot indicated a more difficult target, hitting it meant the resulting damage number would be astonishingly high, potentially even resulting in an instant kill.

This conclusion was not mere conjecture. In fact, up to this point, the increasingly powerful MCDH had already solo-killed a full three Ogres. His incredibly potent Let the Bullets Fly ability gave him an unmatched advantage when dealing with robust, thick-skinned monsters like the Ogres.

The latest statistics showed that MCDH alone accounted for a full fifth of all Ogres killed so far!

The Ogre in the scope suddenly froze, its body trembling violently, and then it collapsed without any apparent external wound. Only MCDH himself saw that the bullet he fired had suddenly split into five fragments mid-flight, piercing the Ogre’s eyes, mouth, and lower torso. This single shot extinguished the life force of a monster that still had a significant portion of its health remaining.

Watching the stream of notification messages flash across his view, along with the substantial contribution points awarded, MCDH clicked the bolt of his rifle, ejected the spent casing, reloaded, and then tilted his head back, squinting into the scope to locate his next target.

Suddenly, an object appeared in the scope—a searing red, like boiling blood, instantly filling MCDH’s entire field of vision. He immediately looked up and saw the figure of the Sir, holding a crystal goblet, standing before him. The Sir’s every movement was still utterly graceful, his expression relaxed, yet his words were uncompromising:

“I think you should take a break, M. I have to admit I underestimated you. If you keep killing like this, that pig-headed fool might conclude that the Ogres aren't worth reinforcing at all.”

MCDH’s reply was defiant. He began to tilt his head to aim again:

“What does that have to do with me... Sir, you know I hate hearing nonsense and lies.”

The Sir narrowed his eyes, a flash of cold light in them, but then he offered a wry smile:

“Alright, the leaders of the other two teams lodged a protest, asking you to prioritize the bigger picture and kill a little less. After all, Ogres have a chance to drop Middle-earth Emblems, which are necessary to exchange for high-tier equipment/creatures.”

MCDH scoffed:

“What kind of talk is that? The total output of their teams combined doesn't even match mine, and now they want to use pressure from above? Sir, when I joined the team, no one said the Stockholm Team had a tradition of suppressing its own members to help outsiders!”

The Sir maintained a placid expression, but several cracks appeared on the crystal goblet he held. He knew as a team leader that acting this way was unpopular, but his depth of political maneuvering was beyond anyone’s imagination. Don't forget, Fang Senyan’s body came from his deputy!

The Sir himself was an extremely dominant figure, yet he had made many concessions in maintaining the structure of the entire alliance. This was because the Sir always clearly understood that even if he gained no personal benefit, securing victory in this battle meant an overwhelming triumph!

Regrettably, many people could not see past this point, especially when they were currently reveling in a joyous slaughter amid such unbelievable good fortune! Few people could keep a clear head. When the Sir saw the greed and fire in the eyes of the other two team leaders, he knew he could not persuade them, yet the alliance absolutely could not be allowed to fracture at this moment!

Therefore, the Sir’s only path was compromise. —A compromise made at the expense of his own prestige!

But the Sir felt that everything was still within his control.

At this point, almost everyone from the Stockholm Team began watching this interaction, paying attention to the developments. The Sir, however, composedly raised his stemmed wine glass, drained the blood-red wine in one gulp, and said calmly:

“This is not suppression, M, this is my request. You have the right to continue shooting, but you also have the right to grant me this respect.”

As he spoke, he extended his palm. A necklace gleaming with dark gold light rested on it. The eyes of the young woman beside MCDH immediately shone with adoration.

“Oh, God, is that Venus’s Beloved?”

“Yes, Miss ROSE. It is yours now,” the Sir smiled.

Watching ROSE accept the necklace, MCDH could only grudgingly holster his weapon. The Sir bowed elegantly, but inwardly he was sneering—not at MCDH—for the sharper the blade, the greater the measure of the wielder needed—but at the two greedy and short-sighted leaders of the Silver Wing Team and the Moses Society. Once this battle was over, he would extract tenfold the price from those two teams!

“This is clearly a tactic of besieging the point to strike the reinforcements.” Once the battle reached a certain duration, the enemy’s objective became crystal clear. In the mire area below the city walls, the number of people rescued was still less than the number entering the bog; that accursed place had completely transformed into a terrifying meat grinder.

At this time, the Blue Light Team was conducting data analysis using large-scale holographic projection screens:

“According to the latest data analysis we just acquired, in the last five minutes, only two Ogres among the main rescue targets were killed, their casualty rate dropping to the lowest point since the ambush! In the early stages of the battle, the Ogre death rate had skyrocketed to fifteen kills per five minutes!”

“Clearly, since the enemy can ignore issues like ammunition shortage and weak attacks, this declining trend in Ogre casualties must be artificially maintained. They hope to keep a certain number of living Ogres there to maintain their importance in that pig’s mind, thus continuously sending in reinforcements—oh, I mean, contribution points. Therefore, our best course of action now is to wait, or perhaps go back to the camp and sleep.”

“Shut up.” Two words fell lightly, instantly making the face of the speaker from the Blue Light Team look extremely ugly. He immediately glared angrily, only to see a burly, aloof, and cold figure pushing through the crowd and stepping out from where the voice originated. On his back was a very old-looking rifle from the World War II era.

An M1 Garand semi-automatic rifle.

But as the figure walked toward the distant battlefield, the rifle began to emit a silvery-white glow.

A Legendary-grade weapon??

A Legendary-grade firearm!!

Seeing the weapon on the man’s back shocked not only the spokesperson for the Blue Light Team but also the mysterious leader of the Blue Light Team, who was surrounded by the crowd in the distance. This person was entirely wrapped in a blue hooded cloak, and his face was covered by a very strange mask, resembling a smiling Buddha!

He suddenly turned to Zeus beside him:

“There aren't many people wielding Legendary firearms, are there? That looks like one of your team members, Aziz?”

Zeus’s face was extremely grim at this moment, because in the team channel, Aziz was demanding that he come over for cover!

But first, it wasn't worth being the sacrificial bird; second, going to help now meant completely tearing faces with the Blue Light Team, a cost that was far too high!

So Zeus chose silence. But Aziz was hardly someone who wouldn't dare act without MT cover!

He scoffed and directly melted into the group of half-orc warriors heading for the reinforcements.

Not long after, a highly discordant phenomenon occurred on the first tier of the Minas Tirith city wall. Among the jubilant defenders who were treating the attack like a carnival, suddenly a person fell from the wall!

Under the Sauron side’s absolute disadvantage, opportunities to counterattack the defenders on the wall were few, though certainly not nonexistent—for instance, enraged Uruk-hai throwing their weapons with full force toward the ramparts. Thus, the defending side didn't pay much attention to this incident. Whether the person fell accidentally or was killed by the nearly negligible counterattack, it was like a tiny ripple in the ocean, instantly extinguished.

However, Aziz was an individual who absolutely could not be ignored!

Even someone as formidable as Fang Senyan would not dare claim he could ignore Aziz if he faced him.

Every person, or force, that dared to ignore Aziz invariably paid an extremely heavy price!

A while later, another person fell from the wall. This individual didn't move their limbs at all during the descent, clearly having paid the price of life before falling. But the dead person was a plot character anyway, and one of their giant siege towers, unable to withstand the smoke and fire, collapsed with a deafening crash, so this incident was also overlooked.

Immediately following this, two more giant siege towers collapsed. Taking advantage of this opening, three soldiers who had been firing longbows downward were killed in succession.

This, without a doubt, drew the attention of the snipers on the wall.

They quickly found their target. Yes, what was that sneaky Uruk-hai holding a bow trying to do? But the Uruk-hai’s ‘talent’ for archery was as famous as their brutality. How could an Uruk-hai adopt such a standard posture for holding a bow?

So, in the next second, the Uruk-hai’s head exploded, the result of being hit by a total of three sniper rounds.

But at the same time, two more people on the wall were headshot. The terrifying part was that one of them was a Contractor! His panicked shriek before death carried far. And just as everyone’s gaze was fixed on him, a silver-white bullet seemed to fly down from the heavens, shooting directly into his gaping mouth, shattering his head into a cloud of bloody mist!

In front of numerous powerhouses, in front of nearly a thousand Alliance Contractors who currently held the absolute upper hand—

—a direct headshot!

What unparalleled provocation! What supreme arrogance, insolence, and madness!

Instantly, an indescribable emotion surged through every Contractor on the wall: it was rage! And the grinding fury of thousands of Contractors combined could hardly be described as less than a tidal wave!

But, precisely at this moment, just as the thousands of Contractors on the wall stared wide-eyed searching for the culprit, the culprit willingly stepped forward, displaying a look of reckless, challenging ferocity!

Aziz simply held his Garand rifle with one hand. The half-orcs beside him were tossed aside by the violent blast of air, leaving a large clearing around him. Then, Aziz actually aimed at the city wall... and raised his middle finger!!!

—This was absolutely not something a sane person would do. But if Aziz were sane, how could he have provoked the most powerful nation on Earth, the United States of America, when he was just an ordinary person??

In that instant, at least several hundred people simultaneously aimed at Aziz, but the faces of these hundreds simultaneously twisted into complex expressions—a mixture of rage and humiliation—as they all received a notification from the Nightmare Mark:

“The target is protected by the immense power of a Legendary Weapon. Your weapons are of insufficient grade to inflict effective damage upon him!!!”

The true name of Aziz’s Legendary Garand rifle was Saving Private Ryan’s Courage.

And this weapon, along with the Walther PPK pistol Hitler used for his suicide—The Führer’s Demise—and the Deringer single-shot pistol used during President Lincoln’s assassination—The President’s Doom—were known collectively as the Three Legendary Firearms. (Illustrations of the Three Legendary Firearms are available on Weibo.)

Obtaining Saving Private Ryan’s Courage was exceptionally difficult. The requirement was to complete the world of Saving Private Ryan without a single member of the rescue squad dying, and successfully saving Ryan. This action would trigger the key item for the Legendary Weapon series quest—much like the screw Fang Senyan obtained from Droba.

Only then could one proceed through the questline to acquire this Legendary Weapon.

The ability Aziz was currently employing was a built-in skill of the Saving Private Ryan’s Courage firearm: We Are With You!!

This skill instantly summoned the eight members of the rescue squad and Ryan, who would sweep away all enemies blocking the path with fearless courage. The summoning required five seconds, during which the caster could not move, cast spells, or use items, but the caster would simultaneously be protected by Saving Private Ryan’s Courage, rendering them immune to damage from attacks below Legendary grade!

The eight members of the rescue squad and Ryan soon materialized on the city wall. This brave and formidable squad, clad in standard US Army gear and shining with silver light, instantly unleashed a storm of steel upon the ramparts. They too were immune to damage below Legendary grade, fortunately lasting only sixty seconds.

From this, it was clear that while Aziz was a madman, he was certainly not a fool. He had clearly conducted careful and meticulous reconnaissance, obtaining accurate intelligence that the enemy lacked Legendary-grade weapons before daring to rush out and slap the Alliance forces on the Minas Tirith walls across the face!

But individual power, ultimately, could not contend with the collective.

No matter how formidable Aziz was, he was still just one person. He might be able to contend with one team, but he absolutely could not fight two teams.

And on the magnificent walls of Minas Tirith, there were far more than twenty teams present!

No matter how powerful the signature skill of a Legendary Weapon was, it could only take out ten or twenty people at best. Aziz’s actions merely served to give the Sauron Contractors a massive catharsis, but they could not decide the outcome of the battle; ultimately, they could not reverse the overall tide of a catastrophic defeat.

“That bastard must not be allowed to escape alive!”

“Kill him!”

“Legendary Weapon, Legendary Weapon!! Don’t you want it?”

“If he lives, we will be a disgrace from now on!”

"If you can't kill Aziz even with such a golden opportunity, then in future battles, it might be you that he finishes off!"

The Contractors on the walls of Minas Tirith screamed frantically. If Aziz could survive this situation, it would truly be the lifelong disgrace of these spatial Contractors.

However, the location Aziz chose to appear in was deliberately chosen. He materialized only about twenty meters from the city wall, specifically around a hundred meters to the left side of the Minas Tirith curtain wall. As soon as he summoned Ryan and his troops, they immediately charged towards the base of the wall.

Aziz was inherently an Agility specialist. Upon unleashing his full sprint, he essentially reached the base of the wall instantly. A few hasty bursts of gunfire completely missed their mark. Once beneath the wall, he effectively blocked the line of sight for nearly 80 people positioned above. After a few rolls, he bolted toward the far end of the left wall of Minas Tirith.

The wall of Minas Tirith followed a curved path, so once Aziz reached the end of the wall and continued running along the cliff face, the pressure exerted on him would be even less. Nevertheless, just as everything seemed to be proceeding smoothly, and just as Aziz was about to sprint to the very end of the left wall of Minas Tirith, the sound of a sniper rifle cracked through the air.

Those who could hold their fire until this moment were, without exception, elite sharpshooters brimming with supreme self-confidence!

"This guy has equipment that suppresses hit probability... I missed." A dark-browed sniper stated his failure with perfect composure, seemingly unconcerned, even though he might have just let a Legendary weapon slip through his grasp.

Another sniper vented his frustration, blowing out a plume of pale smoke:

"He predicted my firing window... Damn it!"

"I hit him, but this guy's rank is a full two tiers above mine! Does this Aziz think he can survive just because of that? Naive! The top three haven't even made a move yet!" After speaking, this sniper couldn't help but turn his gaze toward the third defensive wall of Minas Tirith. Following Aziz's escape trajectory, a final interception was possible from the third wall. Those already poised there were, without exception, the absolute top masters in the Alliance!

And 'M,' who single-handedly took down eleven Ogre warriors, had already pressed his eye to his scope!

Aziz felt a tearing pain in his shoulder blade. He could clearly sense the bullet burying itself beneath the scapula before fragmenting. Several sharp pieces of shrapnel were relentlessly gnawing at the muscle tissue around the wound with every breath and stride.

But for Aziz, this kind of pain was old news. What commanded his attention now was the increasingly icy chill emanating from his back, the back of his head!!

It was Killing Intent!

"These bastards really do have some tricks up their sleeves," Aziz’s face contorted into a savage expression. He began preparing to activate a pre-set Teleportation Device. Although the cost of activating it once was enough to make one gasp in shock, it was certainly better than getting his head blown off.

"If that bastard Zeus would only show up, why would I be forced into such a desperate situation?"

But Aziz suddenly faltered, because he spotted a "corpse" not far away that was strangely winking at him! As a sniper, eyesight was paramount. Thus, even though the "corpse" was clad in the standard, common thick leather armor of an Orc, complete with shaggy hair, Aziz instantly recognized the person's true identity. He hesitated for a split second, just long enough to see the "corpse" extend a hand toward him. Immediately afterward, amidst a dazzling golden light, an invisible great hand fiercely seized Aziz, yanking him away in an instant.

Hand of God!

The very moment Aziz landed, three sniper rifle roars, seemingly capable of shattering the heavens, pierced the air. Three long-planned, fatal strikes slammed into Aziz simultaneously!!

This was the Alliance's final opportunity to fire from the walls of Minas Tirith.

Therefore, this was also their most powerful strike!

Yet, after being struck, a circle of semi-transparent, clear yellow light shimmered around Aziz’s body. He froze for a moment, appearing completely unharmed. Then, he actually managed to flip them the middle finger before leaping into the line-of-sight dead zone.

The expressions of the three who fired varied. One took a deep breath:

"I received a prompt that I fired upon a target in an Invincible state..."

"Same here," another master stated slowly.

Only MCDH remained silent, though his heart was far from as calm as his appearance suggested. He had recognized Reef—the MT who had once fought alongside him in the Pandora world!! The comrade of the past had now become an irreconcilable enemy! He couldn't help but sigh internally:

"So, it really comes down to fighting them... Since Reef is here, where is that Sailor now? That bastard is capable of creating miracles..."

Fang Senyan, at this moment, felt anything but comfortable.

Icy mud water had long seeped into the hastily donned Orc leather armor, spreading cold and dampness throughout his body. Worse still, he had to constantly endure the nauseating, acrid stench, like something rotting and teeming with maggots—a smell he could have avoided while sipping coffee in the main tent.

Crucially, Fang Senyan couldn't move an inch right now. From a purely physical standpoint, the corpse he was impersonating formed an essential part of this temporary defensive emplacement. To put it bluntly, Fang Senyan was perfectly positioned to block over seven layers of enemy assault coming from the front!

So, although the attackers were still the same powerful enemies, it seemed the Orcs here were prepared. They held their heads in their hands with their rear ends sticking high up, adopting a posture of self-deception—a cowardly defense. This cunning Orc, having had one of its massive legs shattered, was also crawling here, hoping to survive.

Fortunately, the Contractors on the walls were currently holding back their fire. Only the garrison forces continued to relentlessly shoot wave after wave of dense arrows. But honestly, these weapons, lethal to humans, had minimal effect against the thick hide of the Orcs and Fang Senyan's own defense.

The sole reason Fang Senyan was here was to attract the attention of the Milestone 'Hedgehog.' As soon as the Pig-Head Commander issued the call for reinforcements, Fang Senyan had donned Orc soldier gear and charged forward into danger.

Because he was unsure of the enemy's strength, Fang Senyan proceeded with extreme caution, stepping as if on thin ice with every movement. To ensure the Life Link could trigger promptly and last longer, he made sure Reef held back, allowing him to linger nearby playing the corpse.

But this performance was worthwhile. After 'acting' for this duration, the Milestone counter displayed 822/5000 required participants! This was largely thanks to the Orc's pathetic presence and the garrison's tireless shooting.