Looking at the dozens of people lying in the pool of blood in the queue, Alfonso's face had long turned pale. He suddenly realized that he had encountered a not-so-simple army. These oriental natives were by no means barbarians. Obviously, they had more skill than the Portuguese.

Alfonso calmed himself down and reluctantly restored himself to some calmness. He had to do so because he knew very well that since he had already reached this point, he would never retreat.

He even became angry at the damn Wang Hanzhong. This guy... this guy... actually deceived him, and even he looked down on the enemy opposite him so much.

But the situation at this moment was like an arrow on the string and had to be fired. Alfonso did not have the ease he had just now, staring at the front with a calm face, and said viciously: "Go forward."

The order of "Progress." continued to be issued, and the messenger who was beating the drum beat the drum again.

At this time, Alfonso suppressed the feeling of not being able to touch it, and said to himself silently: "Don't worry, the shooting time of the rifle is two minutes. After all, it takes time to recharge gunpowder. As long as you continue to move forward, you still have an advantage in number, but the casualties may be greater. But in the end they won and got that huge wealth, so a little casualties are actually nothing."

However, at this moment, the military literacy of the Portuguese Legion was reflected. Although they were frustrated, they still maintained their formation. After Alfonso's order, the little panic just now seemed to have never happened, without any hesitation, and the Portuguese Legion continued to move forward.

And they all held a belief in their hearts. Although the other party's muskets were powerful, the interval between replacing ammunition took time. Although during the process, they would encounter more than a dozen rounds of volleys, the losses would be huge, and even heavy, no matter what, as long as they rushed closer, they would have the chance to kill the hateful Ming soldiers and then obtain countless wealth.

They came here from thousands of miles away and never feared death. What they feared was to return empty-handed. After all, even if they returned, they might face a storm or another kind of death. In this way, it would be better to be dying and do a big deal here.

The drums remained the same.

But at this time, when the Portuguese sergeant rebuilds confidence in themselves and just wants to continue to move forward and shoot the Ming army on the opposite side without leaving any armor, the gunshots of the other party disrupt their rhythm again.

The interval is less than ten seconds, yes, just less than ten seconds.

Ten seconds later, the gunshots rang again, and they only took five steps away from just now. After five steps, the gunshots rang out.

Suddenly, Alfonso saw another person falling down beside him. Even at a distance of more than 400 steps, the bullet was still whistling, with huge penetration. He even saw a bullet spiral into the head of a soldier beside him with a tail flame. With a bang, a blood hole appeared, and then the bullet actually passed through the back of his head.

The soldier died naturally, and died a little unjustly. This was a brave soldier. Alfonso suddenly felt a little sad because he knew this man. This farmer-born guy had been a sailor and an extremely outstanding soldier. He had a record of shooting thirty-seven local soldiers in Ceylon. But now, before he could show his skills, the bullet penetrated his front skull, his brain, and the back of his head.

Alfonso's face became even more ugly. He finally felt a little scared and finally felt that he had come to the wrong place.

He remembered God.

At the same time, he gritted his teeth and said, "Go forward!"

We must continue to move forward because there is no way out. It is a distance from Tanggu here. Even if we want to retreat and want to get on the boat, the other party obviously will not give them a chance.

So he could only continue to shout: "Kill them all, conquer these damn pagans, and move forward quickly."

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The third round of shooting began, and someone fell down in front of the Portuguese formation like harvesting wheat.

Wang Hanzhong, who was hung on the cross, could no longer laugh and was even stunned. He never expected this to be the ending. He couldn't help but shivered, and a chill filled his whole body, causing him to sweat coldly on his back. How could this... be... how could it be...

Wang Hanzhong couldn't help but open his eyes wide, with amazement in his eyes, and even a little horror appeared, watching everything that happened next.

To a certain extent, there is not much pressure on the shooting of new soldiers in Zhenguo. Because the enemy is too far away from them, they don’t need to aim, they just need to do it as they did during the drill, um... load the Minnie bullet into the bullet bay, then open the firing needle that was caught in the gun, and then... no more. They all think it’s ridiculous to say that, because there is really no pressure or trick. This is what they practice every day because there is no telescope, but they don’t have to aim. Their command is to have two hundred people in a row, then load, then take over the people in the front team, and then start shooting.

Regardless of whether they hit the enemy or not, these were obviously meaningless. However, wailing came from a distance, and the sturdy team continued to move forward.

Is there something wrong? Is it too little power that causes the other party not to suffer too many casualties? Otherwise... why has the other party not disintegrated yet?

This question lingers in everyone's heart.

The fourth round...

The fifth round...

Round 6...

Finally, the new army students in Zhenguo saw the Portuguese on the opposite side clearly, and the formation was a little messy, in groups of three or three. Although they were still moving forward quickly, it was obvious that the square formation was much thinner, at least... at least six or seven hundred people were missing.

For an army of 3,000 people, a shortage of six or seven hundred means 20% of the war losses. This ratio is very shocking, and under normal circumstances, it is enough to cause the vast majority of the troops to collapse.

But these Portuguese people were indeed eye-opening. They did not disintegrate, and they were still marching forward in the drums. However, at this time, there were no cheers and whistles, and there was no ease. They felt the pain for the first time, but the rain of bullets did not stop because of this.

Finally reached two hundred steps.

After the 37th round of shooting, the Portuguese's losses reached half.

Zhu Houzhao's face was completely pulled down. Is this teasing him? This is war? Where is the golden sword and iron horse? What about the golden sword and iron horse?

Zhu Houzhao's face looked ugly, and he finally couldn't help saying: "Milt gun, musket, give me a musket..."
Chapter completed!