John Adler watched the sky turn red in an instant, his face pale and forehead covered in cold sweat.
"They were prepared long ago!" Adler said tremblingly, "Aren't you wizards all medieval relics? How can you handle missiles?"
A confident attack was thought to inflict heavy casualties on the other side, but it almost had no effect.
Compared to the spells that wizards can release in an instant, the speed of missiles is still too slow, and the Witch Pure Party seemed to suffer only a few casualties, with even bullets having little effect on them.
A simple Iron Armor Spell might not be able to stop bullets, but wizards cooperating, using the Impedimenta Curse along with the Iron Armor Spell, could work miracles; while the Dragon Skin Cloak with the Iron Armor Spell cast on it, its effect was akin to a bulletproof vest, though the spell's effect couldn't last long.
Having experienced the world wars, Grindelwald knew many similar little tricks, despite being isolated from the world for years, his familiarity with Muggle weapons still exceeded that of most wizards, and even most Muggles. After escaping from prison, he didn't forget to supplement his knowledge in this area.
Facing Adler's questioning, Abigail, standing beside him, only said, "It's too early to be afraid now, our attack is just beginning."
The next second, both of their expressions changed drastically.
Among the wizards, countless paper planes suddenly rose into the air, with familiar-looking bombs hanging below them.
"Get away—there are bombs—"
Screams pierced the manor, yet countless people only stared blankly at the overwhelming white paper planes, too terror-stricken and despairing to react.
The muzzles turned to the sky, intercepting some of the paper planes, adding more brilliant colors to the sky, but more planes flexibly swooped towards the crowd below.
Whether it was ordinary soldiers with guns or thick-skinned werewolves, under such firepower, they were like paper.
Only a few vampires turned into bats, flying up just in time, but instead of helping their companions, they flapped their wings and flew higher.
However, when the loud sound of explosions rumbled into the distance, some bats' flight paths suddenly became erratic, with some even diving headfirst into the center of the flames!
"How could it be... they didn't show this ability before..."
Adler murmured, suddenly jumping up to grab Abigail's arm, shouting, "Get me out of here! Now! Immediately! I want to leave this damned place!"
Another wizard in the organization said dismissively, "What a coward! These guys were just sent as cannon fodder to die, when the Witch Pure Party steps into the manor, then you'll see our true power..."
"Bastard! Do you know how much funding I provide for you every year?"
Before the wizard could finish speaking, Adler's finger was almost touching his nose, roaring in anger:
"I spent so much money, not to stand here as bait! I don't care what other tricks you have up your sleeves, take me away right now!"
The wizard's expression turned cold, Abigail stopped him, stepped forward, and said:
"Mr. Adler makes sense. Since the Witch Pure Party has already arrived, he indeed doesn't need to stay here. You continue to watch, I will escort him away."
The wizard snorted and said no more.
Adler ignored his attitude, picked up his important briefcase, and followed Abigail out, still promising her as they left:
"My life is more important than anything, as long as you can protect me to a safe place, I'll give you money you couldn't earn in a lifetime..."
Abigail remained silent, holding her magic wand, like a loyal guard.
…
Grindelwald put away his magic wand and waved his hand.
Several alchemist apprentices of Vorvillet opened the boxes they carried with them, and an endless stream of paper planes flew out, like a white tidal wave, relentless and endless.
The paper planes, carrying bombs many times their weight, flew determinedly towards the enemy's positions, their light bodies like notes sent by the God of Death.
This scene was unexpected even for many in the Witch Pure Party, who looked up in shock, mouths agape, unable to speak.
"Do you see? We may be wizards, but we do not have to rely solely on magical means."
Grindelwald coughed twice, then said, "The biggest problem with Muggle weapons is—they often end up using their killing machines on themselves."