Dual wielding volcanoes, killing through the west

No matter where the enemy's attack comes from, they will definitely use explosives. Gathering people together would be tantamount to handing them over for a kill.

Colonel Monroe, being very experienced, immediately gave the order to change formation. The originally wedge-shaped troops immediately dispersed on the spot, becoming multiple groups that dispersed into the alley.

Before he came, he had already made a contingency plan—at worst, he would go deep into the city and fight the enemy in street battles.

His opponents were nothing more than a group of refugees from Pike City, untrained in combat. They might have simply found some weapons in Oak City—explosives, rifles, and the like—and thought they could stand against him because they had the advantage of terrain; how utterly foolish!

The initial fighting may be quite fierce.

But soon, these country bumpkins will be terrified and collapse under the sight of blood and gore on the battlefield, and victory will only be a matter of time.

He confidently issued the order, and the quality of this team was indeed not to be underestimated. Despite an unfavorable start, they quickly dismounted, reorganized, and dispersed, advancing towards the various alleyways. However, having learned from the previous experience of their comrades being burned to a crisp, this time they acted with even greater caution.

No one dared to underestimate these country bumpkins anymore. Everyone raised their guns, aimed them forward, and slowly advanced.

But few people notice what's under their feet.

Except for Jack.

Upon seeing a faint, barely visible thin line, his tightly furrowed brows relaxed instantly, and he gasped.

"Watch your step!"

Jack pulled on the reins and shouted, "It's a trip mine—!"

……

Almost at the same moment he spoke, someone else had already used the same trick, snapping the tripwire while walking.

"Thump—!!"

The continuous explosions heightened the soldiers' already sensitive nerves, causing more and more to lose their composure. No one listened to what Jack was saying. Everyone acted purely on instinct, and this irrational behavior resulted in more tripwires being broken.

A desperate chain reaction.

A series of explosions littered the ground, sending limbs and debris flying everywhere. In an instant, this once-perfect city was transformed into a living hell. Within a very short time, the screams nearly doubled. Even the most powerful army could not withstand such an onslaught and began to show signs of collapse.

Colonel Monroe was somewhat surprised to see his team's morale plummet to rock bottom within two minutes, and he hadn't even figured out the enemy's location.

Tripwire mines are a fairly advanced weapon, but within the American military at this time, they were still in the conceptual research stage. However, far away in White Torch, Theon, who had hand-crafted a stable detonating grenade, and Tao's design, had successfully brought this weapon to market after a series of relatively mature war experiments.

It is the perfect new weapon for dealing with densely populated urban warfare.

But for the person who triggers it... this is the gateway to hell.

----

"boom!"

The scream drowned out many other sounds, but Jack's keen sense of gunfire allowed him to pick up on this discordant note.

It's impossible to have misheard.

Almost the instant he heard the sound, he immediately pulled his right foot out of the stirrup and lunged forward without regard for the consequences, landing heavily on the ground with a thud.

But his suspicions were proven correct. In the chaos of battle, the soldier who happened to be behind him was shot in the neck. Judging from the trajectory, the bullet should have precisely pierced his forehead.

“Ha…” Jack sneered, casually drawing his revolver. “If I dodge, he’ll be the one who’s in trouble.”

"boom!"

Without offering any explanation, he shot and killed Colonel Monroe's horse. The horse's legs buckled, throwing him off its back, and the bullet that was aimed at him grazed past him.

"Jack, did you do this? You fucking..."

"Shut up, there's a sniper!" Jack pulled down his cowboy hat, interrupting him abruptly before he could utter a curse, and said in an almost angry tone, "We've already been exposed for giving orders. If you want to live, come with me!"

"..."

Sure enough, this tactic worked better than anything else. The moment the possibility of death was mentioned, Colonel Monroe immediately swallowed his words. He lowered himself as low as he could, weaving into the crowd, and escaped with Jack to the corner of a building.

Bullets grazed past them from time to time, precisely catching the soldiers they brought with them and taking them down one by one.

Leaning against the hard wall, he was still in shock, panting heavily.

He had expected an easy sweeping operation, but the intensity of the battlefield far exceeded his expectations. He was beginning to lose sight of the enemy he was facing.

"This is unbelievable!" Under intense tension, Colonel Monroe grabbed a handful of his hair. "How...how many of them are there to unleash such firepower?"

……

“One,” Jack said, already understanding the situation perfectly, “or two.”

"...What kind of joke are you talking about?" Colonel Monroe looked at him with an unfriendly expression. "Because this is not funny at all."

Two people were able to reduce his carefully selected and assembled team to this state. Although it hadn't been a complete rout, Colonel Monroe considered it a great humiliation.

He was unwilling to admit it.

Just as others in the military were unwilling to admit that in Hightree, a fully armed army would be defeated by an Indian tribe.

"The bullets all entered at the same angle. You can see that from those corpses; they went in through the bridge of the nose and came out through the brainstem. One shot, one kill, minimizing the pain. Except for the less-than-elegant burial, it's almost perfect..."

Jack glanced at the theater not far away and muttered, "He's a very methodical sharpshooter."

……

"You stay here and continue to organize the counterattack."

"What?" Colonel Monroe exclaimed, spreading his hands in surprise. "HOW?!"

"Just station your men here and give him a target to shoot at. I can deduce their location based on the bullet trajectories..."

Jack drew two revolvers from his waist and said in a deep voice, "I'll handle this guy."

Chapter 820: You're no longer a cowboy!

"when--!!"

A high-speed spinning bullet grazed the corner of a tall building.

It didn't leave a bullet hole on its surface, but instead bounced at a very precise angle, breaking the barrel of the rifle in Mike's hand.

Sparks flew past his eyes. Mike paused for a few seconds, spat out the half-smoked Red Apple cigarette he had been holding, and squinted at the approximate direction from which the bullet had come.

The city has too many large buildings, which are distributed quite densely, forming a natural, interconnected fortification. Looking around, there was no one in sight.

"What's going on?" Theon turned his head and naturally saw the dent in the barrel. His face darkened. "It came from below?"

“…Our location has been exposed.” Mike’s tone turned serious, and his eyes became incredibly complex. “This is a warning.”

"warn?"

Theon understood the implication in his words.

If it were the enemy, they wouldn't issue any "warnings" at all. On the battlefield, it's either you or me; they'd do whatever they could to get away with it. They wouldn't have the time or inclination to warn others.

They were ruthless when setting up tripwires. Similarly, since the enemy possessed the "ricocheting bullet" ability, such an insane skill should have been aimed directly at Mike's head—that would have been the logical approach to fighting them.

However, he issued a warning.

Is it someone you know?

“If I could, I really hope I’m mistaken.” Mike sighed deeply and murmured, “Everything can be faked, but marksmanship is something that can’t be faked.”

"Are we going to deal with some legendary figure again?" Theon already had a premonition. He pursed his lips and pondered for a moment. "Give me a heads-up, Mike. What kind of person is he? Is he some kind of legendary gunslinger?"

Mike's pupils dilated slightly; such a melancholy look was rarely seen in his usually calm and expressionless eyes.

“Legendary gunslingers…” He repeated Theon’s words, then chuckled and shook his head. “Unfortunately, that’s not the case. The legendary gunslingers who are famous now… were just born in an era without him.”

"His official status should be that of a wanted criminal throughout the United States of America, with a bounty of $9000 in each state."

"The infamous leader of the Jack Gang—Jack A. Elfelt."

----

Gently pushing open the theater door, Jack held the gun in his right hand, keeping his thumb pressed on the hammer. Due to the change in light, his pupils suddenly shrank.

A seasoned gunslinger like him would have regulated his breathing before even entering the room, trying his best not to give away his position by panting. Jack couldn't help but sigh, realizing he was really getting old. He had only run a few steps when his temples started throbbing, and it took him a long time to catch his breath.

The interior of the theater was larger than any theater he had ever seen, with rows of seats and the shadows of the stage curtains potentially hiding people.

Jack carefully searched several locations, then, as if realizing something, he suddenly laughed and deliberately raised his gun high. As if performing, he slowly returned it to its holster, saying leisurely, "No need for this. Come out."

“Even if you wanted to kill me, given your personality, you wouldn’t shoot me in the back.” Jack surveyed the darkness around him and said in a deep voice, “You would hold a gun to my head, look me in the eye, and personally send me on my way, like nobles used to execute prisoners…”

He even strode confidently onto the stage, exposing himself to the most dangerous, open, and unprotected position, spreading his arms wide towards the darkness below the stage, and asked, "Is that so, Ilan?"

……

Mike finally appeared in the shadows.

His expression remained unchanged despite the other party's almost provocative actions; it was still a calm, unfathomable poker face.

He held the lead-gray Colt revolver in his right hand, pointing it directly at the old cowboy on the stage.

“It’s been a long time, Il-Ilan.” Jack tipped his hat to him. “It’s a pleasure to see you again in my lifetime.”

“…You’re still alive.” In Mike’s dead fish eyes, there was nothing left but coldness. “You’ve always been alive.”

“You don’t sound as pleased as I do.” Jack put his dark leather gambler’s hat back on, intentionally or unintentionally pulling the brim down to cover most of his face, thus cutting off eye contact between them. “What, is this not quite the scene of reuniting with an old friend that you imagined?”

“You betrayed us.” Mike slammed his thumb down on the hammer and said coldly, “You betrayed all of us!”

"I made my choice, just like you made yours."

Jack also raised his voice, taking a step forward on the stage. His tone suddenly changed, becoming accusatory, "In that situation, I only saved as many lives as possible, including you and Lu, that's all!"

"After that, you were able to live in anonymity for so many years, even managed to get into the Granite State police system, and become an instructor for the Mounted Police. Everything you have now is thanks to me. I made a deal with that monster called 'Dad'."

"You should be grateful to me, Elan. Without me, you would have been nothing but a skeleton, long since dried up and lost somewhere!"

"But you're never satisfied... You still have a way out, you two idiots! I've sacrificed so much just so you could retire from this life, leave all of this behind, and live a peaceful life as ordinary people. And what's the result? You've actually found a new boss and are following him to stir up trouble and kill people everywhere!"

"Time and time again, they challenged the federal government's bottom line, and finally, things have escalated to this point where they can't be contained!"

Jack covered his face and sighed, saying in a deep voice, "Is this childish trick of punishing evil and promoting good, of robbing the rich to help the poor, really that fun? Twenty years have passed, and you still haven't had enough?!"

“That was once our ideal.” Mike squinted.

"'once'."

"It's been a long time, Elan, we..."

"Our era ended a very, very long time ago!"

Jack's tone was intense, and his shoulders trembled unconsciously.

He spoke each word with great force. It was clear that his speech was fluent, as if he had already rehearsed it countless times in his mind.

However, Mike's expression remained unchanged as a listener.

He said calmly, "Then take off your hat."

“…What?” Jack instinctively pressed down on the brim of his gambler’s hat.

“You don’t deserve to wear this hat anymore.” Mike’s tone was cold and resolute. “You are no longer a cowboy.”

“Take off your hat, leave the Jack Gang, and then…”

He holstered the lead-gray Colt revolver as well, staring intently at Jack on the stage. "Let's settle this once and for all!"

Chapter 821: Those Who Are Willing Take the Bait

"……Ah……"

Finally, Jack revealed a disdainful smile. "Are you serious, Elan?"

"All the skills you use now were taught to you by me. When you were still a troublesome kid, I taught you how to aim, how to fire, and how to fire in bursts. Revolvers, pistols, rifles, bolt-action rifles... I taught you how to use every firearm that exists in the world, breaking it down and dissecting it thoroughly before passing it on to you..."

"So this is all for today, so you can use me to kill me?!"

Over the decades, Jack's marksmanship never waned. The Illuminati always had some dirty work to do, requiring a reliable and accurate veteran marksman, and no one was more suitable than him. In actual combat, he constantly honed his skills, never letting go of his gun, his hand never leaving his gun; the two gradually became one, an extension of each other.

Even with a full head of silver hair, his reaction speed was still terrifyingly fast; he drew his two guns almost instantly.

By the time Mike pulled out the revolver, the sound of the hammer being struck could be heard.

“Bang bang bang bang bang bang——!!”

It's hard to imagine that this is the sound of a revolver firing; the rapid-fire sound is like that of a repeating pistol.

Mike instantly dove to the ground, using the row of seats in front of him as cover. The bullet pierced through the wooden chair backs, sending wood chips flying everywhere.