Chapter 54: Dark Psychology

"Anvil received, preparing for bombardment."

In truth, it wasn't that Anvil couldn't think of a bombardment plan; it was simply that the mortar belonged to the client, not to them.

During a previous contract, a similar situation had led to a dispute that almost turned into a disaster.

Therefore, even though Milton had handed over both the mortar and the M24s for their use, their first instinct was still to resolve the crisis with the cheaper M24s.

Now that Milton had given the order, there was no need to hold back.

As for why they hadn't shelled earlier, the reason was simple: they only had one mortar, making it impossible to form a fire grid. A mortar wasn't a 500-kilogram aerial bomb, and blindly shelling without knowing the enemy's exact position would achieve little other than putting the enemy on high alert.

"Northeastern wind, wind speed 4.1 meters per second, crosswind correction... humidity roughly 67%, speed of sound correction factor decreasing... direct distance to target 310 meters, but with a 12-meter elevation difference, it needs to be converted to... elevation mils..."

Milton nodded slightly.

This was the advantage of hiring experienced hands. If it were anyone else, even with a firing table, they would need a long time to cross-reference and could never complete the aiming process within ten seconds.

Hearing the rapid instructions coming through the walkie-talkie, Milton said, "Fire as soon as calibration is complete."

"Target number one, range... direction... ten-round rapid fire, load, fire!"

Thump!

Three seconds later, an M720 high-explosive shell fell from the sky, landing precisely in the target area. A terrifying explosion blossomed into a searing red fireball, instantly swallowing three enemies whole.

Boom!

The gunfire from the enemy position stopped dead!

Under the violent shock and concussive force, the vast majority of the surrounding windows and glass objects shattered in unison. Milton lowered his body slightly, lifted his head, shook the glass shards from his face, and looked out the window from a safe angle—

Soon, another shell fell. This time, the impact point was slightly behind, cutting off the enemy's possible retreat route.

Following that came the flank roads, rooms that might still hold enemies, and risk zones identified by Anvil!

The fierce bombardment continued for a full ten rounds before finally pausing!

The position that had barely managed to organize a defensive counterattack was instantly transformed into a sea of fire. Half-carbonized body parts and shattered pieces of firearms were scattered everywhere.

You are just as pathetic as your cover.

"No living enemy forces observed."

"Seize the position!"

Hearing the spotter's report, Milton didn't hesitate. Bracing against the incoming wave of heat, he grabbed his rifle, vaulted through the window, charged forward, and rushed toward the final vantage point of cover.

He had to seize the position first during the brief vacuum left by the bombardment!

The three of them moved extremely fast. In less than ten seconds, they had already captured the station chief's office and a utility room.

The cover had been blasted to pieces, and numerous corpses lay on the ground. Some had their lower bodies blown away, snapped in two; others had fallen silently, seemingly killed by gunfire.

Milton did not hesitate, firing a coup de grâce into everyone to ensure none were just playing dead.

"The battle isn't over yet. Poison, cover the flank; we cannot completely rule out Maynard taking potshots at us. Bottle, push forward with me and clear the enemies in the warehouse. Move out."

"Copy that!"

However, despite Milton entering the fray mentally prepared for a brutal battle, he and Flora cleared several pieces of cover ahead without encountering a single enemy.

Instead, they found three men cowering in the corner of the warehouse, curled up into tight, trembling balls.

Had the enemy given up resistance just like that? They clearly still had plenty of depth...

Hearing footsteps behind them, the three men immediately raised their hands high and shouted in terror, "We surrender! Mister, please tell your men to stop shelling! We won't resist!"

At their feet lay an RPG-7 rocket launcher and several automatic rifles, proving they still possessed a certain level of combat capability.

Yet the consecutively falling teammates and the relentless roar of artillery had completely shattered the inspectors' morale, driving them to desperately choose to lay down their weapons and surrender.

Anyone who had been on a battlefield knew that a one-sided bombardment dealt a devastating blow to morale.

Just hearing the deafening thunder of the explosions was enough to keep the vast majority of men from daring to lift their heads.

When facing artillery, that sense of helplessness and despair—praying in your heart that the next shell wouldn't land on your head—destroyed the inspectors' last shred of fighting spirit.

Though the shelling had only lasted a little over ten seconds, to the inspectors, it felt as though they had endured a torturous ten minutes.

Furthermore, the inspectors had assumed their attackers numbered at least ten, while their own side had suffered heavy casualties with very few left standing.

"Where are the others?" Milton was slightly stunned that the battle had ended so quickly and the enemy's will to resist had been so weak, but he quickly regained focus to secure these "colleagues." "Did they all run away?"

"They're all dead, except for the ones by the garage..." An inspector shook with trembling hands, his voice trailing off as he suddenly realized the voice sounded somewhat familiar. "Wait, you, you are... Milton?!"

Milton?!

The other two trembling inspectors on the ground turned their heads in shock, too.

This "legendary" colleague who had offended Maynard, offended the Fanco gang, and offended the station chief had long been the favorite bedtime gossip among many inspectors.

Some even ran a gambling pool in the station, betting on how many days it would take for Milton to be killed, and quite a few had participated.

Originally, most believed Milton would die a miserable death on the streets within a week.

However, after hearing the story of Milton openly opening fire on a police car out on the highway, the option of Milton being killed within three days had instantly shot to the top of the betting pool, causing the odds to plummet!

Yes, even after hearing tales of Milton, no one at the checkpoint had ever truly taken him seriously.

There were simply too many of these so-called tough guys; a new batch arrived every year, coming and going in waves. Which of them hadn't arrived with grand ambitions, and which hadn't pulled off something sensational?

Over in Mexico, there were even people daring enough to blow up police stations; what was a mere police car?

In the end, wouldn't it all blow over without making a single ripple?

It was only because the police in Guatemala lacked exposure.

Yet who could have imagined that just a single day later, this very colleague would come straight to blow them up!

When the shells landed on their heads, watching with their own eyes as colleagues who were joking around just minutes before were blown to pieces, they finally felt firsthand just how terrifying Milton's nickname, "The Hell Taxman," truly was.

Realizing their attacker was a "colleague," the inspector sprawled on the ground looked as though he had just caught a glimpse of hope for survival and yelled at the top of his lungs, "Milton! Milton! It's me, Hahn! Long time no see, do you remember me? We used to... I, uh... we..."

He tried to strike up a friendly rapport, only to realize halfway through his sentence that he and Milton didn't seem to have any friendly rapport to speak of.

Watching this scene, Flora couldn't help but throw out a sarcastic remark: "You might as well say you and Milton are estranged brothers from different mothers; that would make cozying up a lot easier."

"Yeah! Exactly, I and—"

Milton delivered a kick, cutting off his nonsense, and demanded, "What's in the garage? Spit it out."

The inspector stumbled from the kick, his face twisting in a grimace for a split second before he quickly adjusted his expression into an ingratiating smile. "Milton, listen, you guys should just leave. Take my advice and don't go in there. People from the Fanco gang are doing the paperwork right now, planning to drive away the truck you impounded tonight..."

"Brother, you really can't keep provoking people you shouldn't mess with, take my word for it! Just leave right now, and I swear I won't tell a soul that you were here tonight, okay? You know, I can even put in a good word for you with the station chief..."

The Fanco gang was going to drive away the medical truck? Raul really had completely colluded with the station chief.

Listening to his colleague chatter on endlessly, Milton suddenly nodded and said, "Alright, we're leaving."

"Remember, I've already left the checkpoint and headed back to town."

Milton stepped forward, dislocated his colleagues' arms, shattered their kneecaps, picked up the weapons from the ground, and waved for a bewildered Flora and Poison to follow him away.

However, Milton did not actually leave the checkpoint; instead, he turned around and walked back into a nearby utility room.

Flora looked somewhat confused. "Uh, Taxman, what are you doing?"

"I previously detained a few people from the Fanco gang, including their clothes and personal items. I remember leaving them right here." Milton briskly stepped forward, smashed open a locker, and pulled out three sets of clothes. "Grab whatever, put them on, and cover your faces."

Flora froze for a moment, then realization dawned. She immediately imitated Milton's actions, putting on a disguise that was barely a disguise at all.

Ready, Milton led the group back to the warehouse.

Inside the warehouse, the downed colleague was currently gritting his teeth, trying to reset his arm while cursing under his breath.

Seeing Milton and the other two walk back in, he froze. "Didn't you guys leave?"

Disguising his voice, Milton shouted fiercely, "How dare you try to confiscate goods belonging to the Fanco gang? Brothers, slaughter them! Let these inspectors learn the consequences of crossing the Fanco gang!"