The Chinese Self-Rescue Army did not turn into women kneeling down begging for mercy as Mohot thought. The blood that had remained in the bodies of the soldiers for thousands of years was ignited at this moment, and an outburst that was not consistent with the cowardly body was
Come on.
No one is afraid, no one flinches, even if they fall, they must pull the enemy down with them!
On the battlefield, the soldiers on both sides have turned into beasts, their eyes are red with blood. It doesn't matter whether you are Chinese or white, whether you are a general or a soldier, as long as you touch the knife, you will die.
The soil was dyed red in a short time, and the rich smell of blood almost condensed into substance, attracting goshawks in the sky to keep circling.
However, since the British army suffered heavy casualties before the close combat began, only about a hundred of its three hundred soldiers were left with combat effectiveness, so this was an asymmetrical hand-to-hand battle.
The self-rescuing soldiers either surrounded a British soldier in pairs, or several of them worked together to kill a British soldier. The number of soldiers killed continued to decrease, and the morale of the British soldiers continued to decrease.
The contempt in the eyes of the British army disappeared as early as the moment of the battle, and turned into deep worry and uncontrollable fear.
"Why haven't these damn yellow people escaped yet? Why?" Mohot looked at the Chinese self-rescue army who were fighting desperately with a blank look on his face. He couldn't understand or figure it out.
You can't blame Mohot. He is not a historian. How could he know the domineering power of the Qin army sweeping the world? The kingly power of the Han army whoever attacks our Han Dynasty will be killed no matter how far away it is; the arrogance of the Tang cavalry rushing towards the Great Food army.
At that time, which country in the West could resist the nomads? At that time, who dared to underestimate the Chinese?
What Mohot knew was that the Qing army had been attacked several times and collapsed at the first touch.
These Chinese who rushed forward regardless of their own safety were just regaining the glory of their ancestors.
On the entire hillside, the sound of fighting has become the main theme, and those who have fallen, those who are standing, and those who are moving are all shouting.
As long as Madman Zhang wields a bayonet, he will completely lose his mind and become a mad tiger. In his eyes, there are only three kinds of people left, one is his own people, one is the enemy, and the other is the dead.
, with a ferocious look on his face, he rushed towards the place where the British troops gathered, and performed the simplest chopping movements, but what he performed was the most brutal killing. Countless British troops didn't even have time to hum, and they had already turned into
The souls who died under his sword.
Kill, kill, kill, I want to cut off all the foreign heads and kill all the foreign soldiers. Madman Zhang thought of the president who died innocently and tragically. He thought of when he first set foot on this land, the foreigners pulled their braids and dragged them on the ground wantonly.
His heart felt like it was about to explode. Only by killing all the enemies in front of him could he extinguish the endless anger in his heart.
Both sides were furious. Whether they were generals or ordinary soldiers, they roared and fought together regardless of their own safety.
Liu Zhenming has long been extremely skilled in the art of assassination. He has been honed in countless actual combats. Even a simple move carries endless murderous intent.
He led more than a dozen of his own soldiers and began to go on a rampage. Wherever the sharp knife passed by, the enemy soldiers would be injured or killed upon contact. The broken limbs and broken arms were flying everywhere with his figure, killing them forcefully.
Once a bloody road was opened, he was like a sharp knife. Wherever the battle was fierce, he would rush in that direction and never allow the British army to form an effective counterattack.
"Anyone who dares to stand in my way, Liu Zhenming, will die!"
Liu Zhenming was furious and filled with evil spirits. His whole body was soaked with blood. He was like a war god from ancient times. He looked up to the sky and roared. He no longer knew how many people he had killed. He only knew how to keep moving forward. Anyone who dared to stop him would be killed.
It's a clean break.
Killing one person is a sin, killing ten thousand people is considered a hero, and killing nine million people is considered a hero among heroes.
What Liu Zhenming wants to do is to be a hero among heroes and use endless corpses to build his reputation...
It seems that they were influenced by Liu Zhenming. The Chinese who were fighting roared, and a force came out of thin air in their bodies. Then they accelerated their speed and mercilessly plunged their bayonets into the chests of the British soldiers.
Mohot was frightened, Tristan was frightened, and all the British soldiers who were still fighting were frightened. They had never encountered an army like this, an army that did not care about themselves and only wanted to kill. There were people here and there.
, is clearly a beast that has transformed into humans.
The encirclement of the Self-Rescue Army is getting smaller and smaller, and the number of British soldiers who can stand up is also getting smaller and smaller, from the original one hundred and fifty to one hundred, and then to more than fifty.
Finally, some British soldiers collapsed and lowered their proud heads.
"I surrender, I surrender! They are not Chinese, not Chinese." A British soldier suddenly fell to his knees on the ground, raised his hands high, and murmured to himself.
"They are beasts, beasts that can only kill!"
surrender?
Surrender to the dirty and cowardly Chinese?
Some British soldiers couldn't bear the humiliation, so they shouted and rushed towards the Chinese self-rescue soldiers, and were finally hacked to death with random swords.
There were also British soldiers who accepted the reality. They raised their hands with a look of despair, lowered their heads and remained motionless.
Seeing this, Liu Zhenming shouted loudly: "Those who raise their hands to surrender will not be killed!"
Of course, he did not lose his rationality in the killing, and he shouted in English.
As more and more British troops raised their hands, there were only a dozen foreigners left in the encirclement, including Mohot and Tristan.
Mohot looked at the corpses of soldiers lying on the ground with a bloodless face, and looked at the enemy troops slowly surrounding him, feeling a deep sadness in his heart.
At this moment, he only had endless regrets. If I hadn't been eager to break out, if I hadn't underestimated the Chinese, if, there were no ifs, and there would be no regret medicine to buy.
Why, why can a mere five hundred Chinese defeat more than a thousand British troops? Has this world become something I don’t recognize?
Mohot raised the knife in his hand. When he saw the Chinese who was the most vicious murderer, he couldn't help but tighten his hand.
Of course, if he were a Japanese commander, he would be so ashamed that he would commit suicide to apologize, but he was a British commander, and the differences between Eastern and Western concepts would not allow him to commit suicide. In Christianity, suicide will not lead to heaven.
Liu Zhenming took a breath, wiped the blood from his face, supported his body with a knife, but still looked sharply at the British commander in front of him.
"You are the British commander, surrender or die?" Liu Zhenming asked Mohot in English with a hoarse voice without any nonsense.
"Surrender or die!" the soldiers shouted loudly with the joy of victory.
Surrender or die? Mohot looked at the other people around him and saw that they all lowered their heads in silence. He understood everything in his heart. Yes, we have tried our best and we will not win even if we continue to fight.
, it will only make the sacrifice of the children in vain.
Mohot's head that was held high had to hang down weakly.