The Memoirs of Cultivating Immortals

Chapter 267 Shooting

Near midnight, the lights of Wanjia were lit up.

The military micro-drones circling in the sky immediately noticed something was wrong, and in the images captured by their electronic cameras, the city came alive.

The high-rise buildings that were hidden under the night turned into ant nests, and a black mass of people like ant colonies burst out of them and spread to the ground.

The armed helicopter hastily pointed its searchlight at the ground, and the white light pierced the night sky, illuminating everything.

The sound of kicking footsteps is one piece, which is more solemn and steady than the hustle and bustle of the city, and more free and passionate than the military parade.

People, people wearing V for Vendetta uniforms, whether tall or short, fat or thin, old or young, kept rushing forward along the street, like red blood flowing through the slender in blood vessels.

The two British people, Constantine and Harry Potter, were surrounded by their own compatriots and were quickly diluted in the crowd.

The officer on the gunship watched all this happen in a daze. He stared at the street painted in black, and a kind of sincere fear gripped his heart.

It is true that this officer, whose name was not even mentioned, could pour missiles into bunkers and high-rise buildings on the battlefield in the Middle East, and let machine gun bullets penetrate groups of fleeing people, but the Middle East and London are, after all, different.

London is a civilized city, and the calmness of civilized people under the threat of violence is far more shocking than the servility of savages under violence.

The officer realized something, he shook his numb and cold arm, took off the walkie-talkie from the cabin wall, and shouted: "This is Air Patrol B-5, some people here have violated the curfew law, they are heading towards Tela Fargar Square going, repeat, they're going Trafalgar Square."

Trafalgar Square is the most famous square in London, England. The south end of the square is King's Cross Street, and the south is Whitehall, which is the office area of ​​the British government. It can be described as a strategic location.

Noisy electromagnetic waves, loud gunshots, and the louder "Internationale" came from the intercom. The officer listened carefully, but heard the British general roar: "How many people? How many of them are there?"

The officer swallowed his saliva, looked down at the dense black with the street as a cobweb, and said awkwardly: "A lot, General."

"Damn!"

The general gritted his teeth, and just about to say something, the noise of electromagnetic waves became louder again, completely drowning out the voices of the people.

The helicopter co-pilot turned his head, "What should we do, sir."

The officer's face was tense, and the color of struggle continued to flow on his face, "Fly low."

"Sir, the crowd below is likely to attack us."

The officer said firmly: "Then hover at a position where they cannot attack, and fly as low as you can while ensuring safety."

Then, the gunship descends.

The stirring propeller blades drove strong winds, blowing and hanging the dust on the ground. The officer picked up the horn and shouted to the following: "People, go home. I know you are dissatisfied, angry, and confused, but this kind of action that forced the British Empire government Behavior, can do nothing but disturb the social order.

Come home, at least tonight, without bloodshed. "

No one responded, and the crowd was still moving forward.

Desperation surged in the officer's heart. He picked up the loudspeaker in vain, tried to open his eyes in the storm, and continued to shout: "People, please believe me, go home, I know."

He repeated what he had just said, but unfortunately it was still useless.

The patrolling police car in front noticed something was wrong, and the police officers in uniform picked up the walkie-talkie and said something as soon as they saw the crowd.

Soon, armored vehicles drove over, and those thick and heavy vehicles were connected in a row, end to end, trying to block the street.

"They dare not come over."

A London policeman with a sweaty face sat in the driver's seat of the vehicle, pretending to be casual and said to his young partner in the co-pilot: "They dare not pass"

His words were forcibly interrupted, and the crowd grabbed the edge of the vehicle's chassis with their hands in black leather gloves.

Lift, shake, overturn.

The earth-shaking shock made the police in the police cars and the soldiers in the armored vehicles a little confused. They struggled to get out of the driver's seat, carrying various firearms in their hands.

"Stop, stop!"

As many as a dozen London police and soldiers held their guns and stood in front of tens of thousands of people.

Their police and military ranks had lost their menace at this moment, and together with those guns, they had become some kind of comical props.

"Stop!!"

A London policeman yelled at the top of his lungs and fired into the sky nervously. The sound of "bang bang" gunfire echoed in the night sky.

The crowd ignored him, and didn't even slow down. They simply passed by him, allowing him to stand there in a daze, and let go of his gun.

Trafalgar Square, here we come.

The army that kept pouring ammunition at Li Ang stopped, turned their guns, and aimed at the crowd.

The heavily armed soldiers became nervous in front of civilians who were ten or a hundred times larger than their own.

They squeezed the gun tightly, and the sweat from their palms wet the trigger.

The erosion of the blood race to the army is not high, at least not at the level of grassroots soldiers. All they can do is to select and mobilize some non-London soldiers to garrison the Capitol.

The adjutant looked at the crowds pouring in from all directions, and said awkwardly, "What should we do? General."

"."

The general clenched his fists, and he felt that every inch of water in his throat was squeezed clean by the emotion called "shuddering tension".

"What should we do, General," the adjutant repeated.

The general said with difficulty: "...Get me through to the headquarters."

The so-called headquarters is actually the cabinet group of the British government headed by Prime Minister Ross and the Minister of Defense.

These senior officials are no longer at 10 Downing Street, because of the urgency of the situation, they stayed in a secret base far away from Whitehall.

The general connected the walkie-talkie and quickly said, "Master Prime Minister, this is Peripheral No. [-], please issue an order."

The other party was silent, and the people here had already crossed the National Gallery of the British Empire and the "fourth pedestal" for displaying modern sculptures.

This square, built to commemorate General Nelson who died in the Anglo-French War in 1805, became so crowded, with professional soldiers waiting in full force on one side and hundreds of thousands of people on the other.

Kicking, kicking, footsteps were loud and boiling, the crowd marching silently easily lifted the steel fence, crossed the low concrete walls entangled with barbed wire, and marched towards the Capitol.

what do they wantWhat are they for?Don't they know that once the army makes up its mind, they can easily wipe out these "mobs"?

"General, give the order!" the adjutant shouted.

The general lowered his arms and looked at the crowd with a dazed gaze.

The communication on the walkie-talkie became clear, and the messy and meaningless electromagnetic waves were sorted out and translated by electronic components, and transmitted to the general's ears in the form of air vibrations.

"Fire."

(End of this chapter)