After these last few exchanges, Henry realized he could now empty a 15-round Winchester in seven or eight seconds. He was also much faster and more agile, able to cover six or seven meters in half a second.
The moment the gunfire stopped, he leaped out from behind the corner and, from over 200 meters away, opened fire on the machine gunners in the main gate's watchtowers. At this range, with his full concentration, his accuracy was perfect.
Crack! Crack! Crack! Crack!
He fired four shots, absorbing two seconds of return fire from the other machine guns, and dropped both of the new gunners. For a moment, all four Gatling guns were silent. He had only sacrificed a single green pearl husk.
Crack! Crack! Crack! Crack!
He stood his ground and fired again, killing the two men who had just taken their comrades' places in the side towers. Now, those towers were only manned by three men each—not enough to operate the Gatling guns effectively.
His audacity enraged the four remaining gate guards. They stepped out from behind their cover and opened fire.
Henry didn't bother summoning his granite shield; he wasn't sure if he could wipe out the entire garrison tonight and needed to conserve his resources. He took three seconds to aim, fired four shots, and dropped all four of them. Two of his white pearl husks shattered.
Crack! Crack! Crack! Crack!
He then killed the two new gunners who had just taken their places in the main gate towers.
Now, all four towers had only three men each. No one dared to step out and man the guns.
A strange, eerie silence fell over the battlefield. Henry, a lone man with a single rifle, had suppressed four machine guns. He was an army of one.
He fired ten more shots, extinguishing the nearest gas lamps, then began to reload.
"He's out of bullets!" a voice cried from the tower on the right. "Now's our chance! Kill him!"
The remaining guards, who had been wondering how the devil's rifle could fire for so long, scrambled to take their positions at the Gatling guns.
Crack! Crack! Crack! Crack!
Henry raised his reloaded rifle and fired four more shots, reducing the manpower in each tower to two.
Just then, the main manor gate burst open and fifty riflemen charged out, fanning out and laying down a heavy suppressing fire.
Cian, the commander, had seen his opening. He had been trying to lure the attacker deeper into a trap, but it had cost him six gate guards and twelve machine gunners. He was bleeding men, and his heart was filled with a bitter regret. This man, this demon, was too accurate. He had to be stopped.
The moment the fifty men charged, Henry knew. He raised his rifle, not aiming for headshots, but firing as quickly as he could. In five seconds, he fired ten rounds and dropped the ten men in the vanguard. Then he sprinted for the corner and dove behind it.
Sixteen of his white pearl husks shattered. The forty men behind the vanguard had fired over a hundred rounds in just a few seconds.
With Henry suppressed, Cian sent three new men to each of the four watchtowers.
Henry just reloaded his rifle and waited. They didn't have his infinite ammo supply. Their fire couldn't last forever.
When the shooting became sporadic, he stepped out again. His sharp eyes immediately picked out the six men who were sprinting for the two side towers. They were his first priority.
Crack! Crack! Crack!
He ignored the incoming fire and stood his ground for fifteen seconds, emptying two full rifles, thirty rounds in total. The six runners and another twenty-four of the riflemen were all cut down.
Just as the two Gatling guns at the main gate roared back to life, he ducked behind the corner again.
Another twelve white husks shattered, but the cost was far lower this time.
Cian was seething with a mixture of rage and utter disbelief. Were his men such poor shots? They had fired over three hundred rounds, and their target was still alive, still fighting, like an unkillable cockroach.
Henry did a quick mental calculation. Including the men who were now groaning on the ground, he had taken down seventy-five of the manor's guards. He had cut their defensive strength in half.
He now held a decisive advantage: the initiative. He could attack when he wanted, and he could leave when he wanted. The night was long. He wasn't in a hurry.
In his past life, a proper combat team had multiple elements: recon, assault, cleanup, logistics, medical, and support. With his storage space and his Release Pearls, Henry could perform all of these roles himself. He could even sit down and have a hot cup of coffee while the dozens of men in the manor were slowly losing their minds with tension and fear.
His strategy was simple: he would continue to bleed them, and when the time was right, he would strike the final blow.
He had no fear of reinforcements. In this era, law enforcement was a local affair. The army couldn't be deployed for domestic matters without federal approval, and the state National Guard answered to the governor, not the McKinley family. And with no telephones or radios, no one would be foolish enough to charge blindly into a raging firefight in the dead of night.
For tonight, the McKinley family was on its own.