Triplets on Secret Mission

Chapter 1725

As twilight descended, the docks were bathed in a luminescent glow, and a steady stream of residents began to gather, waiting for the next fleet of vessels. Published by Nôv'elD/rama.Org.

Simultaneously, dozens of miles away, a swarm of armed men from the base was converging toward the dock.

Each man radiated a palpable aura of menace, and as they encountered anyone along their path, they dispatched them without uttering a single word.

Blades flashed, and blood sprayed.

Innocent lives were snuffed out before they could even utter a cry for help, their bodies crumpling into crimson pools.

Witnessing this bloodbath, the others screamed in terror, scattering in all directions. The base men, however, were relentless, pursuing and slaughtering without a flicker of remorse.

The dim light cast eerie shadows on their grotesque faces, making them appear like ghouls risen from the underworld.

Suddenly, a voice pierced the chaos. "What is that?"

As the words echoed, the crowd instinctively followed the direction of the pointed finger.

On a distant mountain peak, a line of figures stood

ominously. Their faces were obscured by the distance, but the artillery cannons by their side were unmistakable.

The gaping maws of the cannons pointed right at them.

A chill ran down their spines, and their leader barked," Retreat!"

But fate had already sealed their doom.

The commander on the mountain peak, with a swift wave of his hand, unleashed a storm of gunfire and artillery shells.

Boom!

The deafening roar of cannon fire ripped through the night, the projectiles hurtling toward those down there.

"Run!"

The people from the base screamed, scrambling in a desperate bid for survival.

The shells found their mark, exploding amidst the fleeing crowd. The detonation was followed by a symphony of screams and cries.

The place was transformed into a gruesome battlefield, strewn with the dead and the dying.

They had never imagined that their fate would be to remain on this forsaken island forever.

The same fate befell the other dock. They were trapped and cut off by the interceptors stationed miles away.

On the deck of a ship, Ward stood, a smug grin on his face as he sipped his coffee, his gaze fixed on the island.

He glanced at his watch, a satisfied smirk playing on his lips. Three hours had passed, and he was certain that the situation was well in hand.

The thought of the accolades he would receive filled him with giddy joy, and he savored his coffee as if it were a fine wine.

Just then, Keagan rushed over in a panic.

"Lord, we've got a situation."

At those words, Ward's heart hammered against his ribs like a runaway drum. "What happened?"

Keagan then told him everything that had happened on the island.

As the reality of the situation sank in, Ward's grip slackened.

Clang!

His cup tumbled from his grasp, clattering onto the deck.

"How in the hell did this happen?" he blurted out, reeling backward as if physically struck. He shook his head, disbelief etched on his face. "It's impossible! How could they have mobilized so much firepower in such a short time? n

Those were cannons.

Before he could wrap his head around the situation, his phone rang.

He fumbled it out, his heart sinking as he saw the caller ID. It was the vice leader of the Union. His body went rigid as he answered, "Sir..."

He was cut off mid-sentence by a voice heavy with despair.

"Pull your people out immediately!"

Ward's mind whirled. "Why?"

A cold, scornful laugh echoed in his ear, followed by a voice that sounded like it was being forced through clenched teeth. "You dare to ask why? The Grandset has rallied the troops of neighboring countries and borrowed heavy weapons. You don't stand a chance of beating them!"