Chapter 604 The Death of the Russian Marshal...

The artillery fire continued to fall on the ground with a scream, bringing not only smoke and dust, but also blood and flesh. The huge roar was enough to deafen the creatures that were close at hand, and the dangerous shock wave turned the strong humans and the full-muscular war horses into ridiculous rags.

People strive to move forward. In order to avoid dangers that cannot be fought against by human power, they had to bend their waists hard and try their best to move towards the hasty guinea pigs.

The brave Cossacks howled, waved the shiny scimitar in their hands and launched attacks again and again on the position. However, the terrible rapid-fire weapon on the Orientals' positions even made them to pieces, and their men and horses were all over. All their blood was scattered and scattered on the messy ground.

Petrov, the Russian major general who was originally full of confidence, could only look at his subordinates with all his courage. The brave soldiers were torn to pieces in front of the other side's weapons that were beyond his knowledge.

And when the opponent's artillery fire, which deliberately controlled the range, suddenly began to extend, completely putting the Russian Expeditionary Force's artillery position into the range, and the red and black flames turned the artillery position into a hell of lava spray, Petrov's ambition was directly cold to his anus.

The officers who seemed ambitious as him before the war began, deep in their hearts, were filled with shock at the sudden outbreak of the powerful combat power of the Eastern army and a fear of falling into a trap.

Petrov felt a sense of humiliation of being deeply hurt and deceived. Yes, he hated those damn Easterners, those cunning and despicable Easterners. If they showed such a powerful combat power that could even make him, the proud Russian general, feared, the Russian Expeditionary Force would never be so entangled with them here.

"We were deceived, deceived by a nation we think is cowardly and powerless, barbaric and uncivilized." A hoarse and old voice sounded in the ears of Petrov, whose face was red with anger.

Petrov suddenly turned his head and happened to see the famous Russian coach Rumentsev standing beside him, his light gray eyes full of fatigue and loss.

"Marson, you are here too, it's dangerous here." Petrov had to shout to suppress the hated sound of artillery fire.

"It's okay, dear Major General, at this time, anywhere will be the front line. Isn't it?" Rumentsev shrugged, as if he continued his usual humor, but it sounded so cold at this moment. Yes, this is a not funny joke.

"I used to yearn for the East very much. Dear Mr. Petrov, well, now it's an old man and a young man. I hope you don't mind that I call you that." Rumentsev took off his beautiful military cap casually and took care of his somewhat messy silver hair.

"Of course, respectful marshal." Petrov looked at Rumensev in front of him with some uncertainty. He had never found that the old man was as peaceful as he was in his back garden. This was a battlefield, a cruel battlefield of blood and fire, life and death.

Faced with the countless artillery fire and smoke, the howling, roar and cry of humans, and the roar of the terrible weapons invented and created by humans, his expression was unprecedentedly calm, which made Petrov, who was originally filled with uneasiness and tension, feel a little curious.

"Yes, I once longed for the East, this rich land, with extremely gorgeous silk, and the tea that exudes a fragrance that makes people feel peaceful, and the porcelain that is as bright as treasures and as precious as artworks. These all made the whole of Europe fall in love with it. Yes, when I was very young, a retired major general in Russia and one of the participants in the Jaxa War, my grandfather once told me that as long as we Russia can extend our tentacles, then what we can get will be more than we imagined."

"He told me that those Eastern people were arrogant and stupid, and they didn't even understand what diplomatic words mean, nor did they understand what negotiations mean. A war that originally ended in failure in Russia gave us a vast Siberia. Yes, before that, everyone knew that there was no master on this land, and the steadar emperor who occupied the rule of the East could only be described as stupid and arrogant, closed and narrow. As a result, in order to show us their kindness, yes, this was my grandfather, the participants in the treaty negotiations at that time told me that their empire prime minister used such a word. So, they...you should know what I mean." Rumentsev gestured. "We succeeded."

"My grandfather has always instilled in me a concept that these Orientals had a very creative talent in the past, and they almost understood the world, but when those tartars became their rulers, they almost destroyed everything, their costumes, and even their power, my God, when I heard this story, I even thought it was just a ridiculous fairy tale..."

The counterattack of the Eastern army was no longer limited to the attacked position. They began to leapt out of the bunker, lifted their rifles, shouted loudly to open fire, and pulled the bolt out of the shell, then pulled the trigger, and the bullet flew out of the barrel at a speed exceeding the speed of sound, heading forward, easily piercing the leather armor of a Cossack cavalry, tearing his skin and muscle tissue, and drilling into his body.

"...A empire that was originally powerful enough to make the whole world amazed by a group of tartar Tath robbers stole their regime. They only knew how to use butcher knives and punishments to deal with that nation. If they wanted to enslave this land, they had to let them forget their once pride and great civilization. These tartar Taths were even more cruel and cunning than the Mongols who invaded Russia and Europe. They not only allowed them to take off their outfits and momentum that had been worn for thousands of years, but even let them culturally eradicate their rationality and creation..."

A shell fell down and exploded dozens of steps ahead of them. More than a dozen guards in charge of alert were torn into pieces in the cracked flames. And Rumentsev's story continued...

"My father, an excellent Russian lieutenant general, who was in charge of Siberian affairs, continued to instill such ideas in me. Yes, this originally great nation has changed, not in a good direction, but has begun to become stupid, cowardly, and as barbaric and ignorant as those of the tartars. They even forgot that their ancestors have improved and created firearms again and again. They rejected all changes and even regarded the things they invented and created as heresy. Do you know? The Emperor of the Tatars even ordered to control the gunpowder of the people, and even strictly controlled the army, just because they were afraid that the nations they ruled would use these things to resist the rule of the tartars. Their weapons were even behind the empire they had destroyed before..."

Horses, war horses, countless war horses carried thousands of cavalry in black clothes and black helmets, and were attacking at the Russian Expeditionary Army camp not far away at the speed of rushing forward. The 20,000 cavalry seemed to have no sign of the terrible nightmare that emerged from hell revealed their hideous minions and made the earth-shaking roar and rushed forward.

In front of the camp, there was news that the more than 10,000 Cossack cavalry who had arranged the formation showed a hint of uncertainty in their flashing eyes when facing these fearless and hideous black-armored demons. Yes, no one could dare to charge and advance without reservation when facing the Cossacks. But now, in front of them, the roar of the oriental cavalry in black-armored made people tremble, and the scimitar in their hands even made people feel that they were full of swords and weapons.

They are like the endless surging waves, as if even a towering peak cannot stop their pace, and all obstacles that block their progress will be torn to pieces.

"... When I received the order from His Majesty the Tsar, the reason why I did not refuse was because I wanted to verify myself, verify the experience of my grandfather and my father..."

"Marson, general, we must leave here, cavalry, their cavalry have appeared, God, there are absolutely more than ten thousand people, absolutely more than we must leave here." Rumentsev's adjutant shouted loudly, and the officers and guards around them seemed so frightened and shouted loudly, giving repeated or opposite orders.

Rumentsev's mouth was filled with a bitter smile and continued to look for the terrified pedestal, looking for a pedestal, hoping to escape the crisis of being annihilated by tens of thousands of powerful Eastern troops, saying loudly: "But I was wrong, yes, we were all wrong. We made the same mistake as our European compatriots, despised them, despised this empire, the strength and determination of the nation to rejuvenate, and the courage and ability to be inclusive. Now, it is time for us to pay the price for it, but this price will not be just our expeditionary force, dear Petrov, believe me, they will become strong enemies that Russia, oh no, even the whole of Europe will be worried about..."

"This old madman! Go quickly! Come quickly, let the Cossacks go back and stop the damn Eastern bastards. You, I order you to do everything possible to stop their counterattack..." Pethrov issued an order in panic, rode the horse led by the adjutant, and under the protection of the guards, he threw down the Russian Empire Marshal who was as treacherous as a mentally ill person, and whipped the horse with a horse whip and fled towards the direction he subconsciously thought safely.

"Yes, my dear grandfather, my dear father, we are all wrong. Their recovery speed exceeded our imagination. The East, this vast land that should have been Russians, has already..." A shrapnel flying from unknown to hit the Imperial Marshal's chest. He lowered his head in amazement, and looked at the white and clean clothes on his chest soaked in the blood, dyed into a strange red.

He pushed away the servant who supported his body and staggered to take a step, but in the end, his legs fell weakly and fell on the land occupied by his fathers with bayonets and muskets. The fragrance of the soil and weeds would bury his already dead body, which was about to die, together with his soul...
Chapter completed!