That night, Zagel was very happy and got extremely drunk before he gave up.
I really didn’t expect that even though I was transporting supplies far behind, I would be favored by the Immortal God and get a share of the credit for nothing.
This Agula is interesting enough and worth making friends with.
Drowsily, I felt someone pushing me.
"What are you doing?" He turned over and said impatiently, "We'll talk about it tomorrow if we have anything to do!"
"Enemy attack, enemy attack!"
"What is the enemy attacking..."
"The Ming army...ah!"
A scream awakened the war gene in Zager's body. As soon as he got up, he saw his bodyguard slowly falling to the ground.
He raised his eyes little by little, and then he saw a tall figure.
This person was none other than Agula, whom we had been drinking with at night. He was holding a shining steel knife in his hand and bleeding.
"Ah...brother Agula, you...what are you going to do?"
"Brother, I will send you on your way!"
Haming slashed with his sword. Zager wanted to resist, but his body was filled with too much alcohol and he couldn't obey his orders.
"You...ah..."
A miserable howl sounded. Ha Ming wiped the blood on his face and continued to look for the next target with the knife in hand.
The Wala soldiers in the camp finally reacted and began to resist.
Many people didn't know what happened. They only knew that there was an enemy attack. In a hurry, they were completely unprepared and panicked and got up to fight.
There were even many people who had their heads cut off by the Ming army while they were sleeping, with a slight smile on their lips and no trace of pain.
The entire camp was ablaze, with shouts of killing, wailing and howling north wind intertwined together, like a blood-red war song, resounding on the shores of Chagannuoer Lake.
After the first round of attacks, most of the more than 3,000 Wala soldiers were lost, leaving only five or six hundred.
The blood of their companions dyed their eyes red, and the ferocity of the grassland people was clearly evident at this moment. They screamed, reorganized their offensive, stepped over the corpses of their companions, and even stepped on the chests of their companions who were still groaning.
, rushing over like the wind.
Seeing this scene, Zhu Qizhen couldn't help but shook his head and sighed. There is really a big difference between the Walas and the Han people.
They only respect the strong. For the sake of victory, anyone's life can be sacrificed, even if it is a comrade who depends on life and death. The human and animal surnames are vividly reflected at this moment.
This time, Zhu Qizhen did not take the lead in the charge. After being tempered by blood and fire, the 3,000 battalion has grown into an elite soldier in hundreds of battles.
The Ming army reaped the battlefield with a huge advantage, and Li Zhen took the lead. She pointed the steel knife forward in her hand, and blood dripped down the tip of the knife.
"Kill!"
In the night sky, shrill screams sounded from time to time, piercing the grassland sky and drifting into the distance. The bright red blood stained every corner of the camp.
The war power of the Wara people can be described as strong. Even though they knew they were surrounded and in desperate situation, they were still struggling desperately. Their blood-stained faces looked like Satan devils from hell.
"Kill!"
The Ming army roared and launched its final charge. The sharp knife tip pierced with the cold light. Blood splattered everywhere. Countless Walas were pierced through the chest. After struggling feebly for a few times, they fell to the ground.
Finally, the last Wala man fell, and the Chagannuoer camp returned to its former tranquility.
The next step was to clean up the battlefield, and Li Zhen came to Zhu Qizhen to report the results.
"Your Majesty, we killed more than 3,000 enemies in this battle, a great victory!"
Zhu Qizhen did not appear very excited, but asked: "What are the casualties of our army?"
"Seventy-two of our troops were killed and about 500 were injured."
Since it was a sneak attack at night, most of the Oara people were asleep, and the Ming army suffered very few casualties. However, in Zhu Qizhen's heart, even if only one person died, it would be a huge loss.
"Li Zhen, how many people are left in the Three Thousand Battalion?"
Li Zhen was stunned for a moment and immediately replied: "Back to the Emperor, as of tonight, there are still 2,750 people in the Three Thousand Battalion!"
After hearing this, Zhu Qizhen looked very serious. When the Three Thousand Battalion was formed, it had 3,000 men. In the battle at Badaling, more than 100 people were lost. Then after going deep into the grassland and fighting for several days, including tonight's casualties, the loss was 250.
Ten people.
These people accompanied him deep into the desert, through life and death. Some were only sixteen or seventeen years old, still children.
However, in order to achieve the final victory, bloodshed and sacrifice are inevitable.
This is war, cruel, cruel, without a trace of mercy!
After the silence, Zhu Qizhen sighed and said: "Write down all their names!"
Li Zhen's expression tightened and she saluted, "I obey!"
…………
On the Mobei grassland, the darkness before dawn is the coldest.
Boyan was sleeping soundly when he felt a cold wind blowing on his head and a guard hurriedly walked into the tent.
"General, this is bad!"
Boyan opened his sleepy eyes and murmured: "Why, have you found traces of the Ming army?"
"Report to the general, fire was seen in the distance, it is suspected that a fire has started!"
Boyan looked surprised, was there a fire on the grassland?
Could it be...Suddenly, something bad flashed through his mind. He hurriedly got up and came outside the tent. He only took one look and then froze.
"General, look, is that where the Chagannuoer camp is?"
Somewhere in the south, fire shot into the sky, lighting up the entire night sky.
Boyan suddenly felt sleepless, and the look in his eyes was gradually replaced by anger.
After a while, I heard him roar: "Everyone gather, target the Chagan Nuoer camp!"
…………
Sprinkle lamp oil on the yurt and ignite it with a torch. There will be a soft buzzing sound. The fire will grow from small to large, from near to far. The huge and spacious tent slowly burns, like a spark burning on the vast grassland.
.
In less than a moment, the yurt was engulfed by a large fire. The raging flames swayed with the wind and set fire to the adjacent tents. Countless yurts, like matchsticks next to each other, were burned one after another.
Ignite.
Ten tents, twenty tents, a hundred tents, the sparks of fire burned bigger and brighter. When thousands of tents in Chagannuoer were burning under the sky, they were burning like fireworks.
In the night sky, the fiery light is like the blood flowers blooming on the grassland, reflecting the vast sky red.
When the boundless tents burned one by one, and the flames soaring into the sky illuminated their faces, the soldiers of the Three Thousand Battalion rode back and forth on horseback, holding their swords high, cheering vigorously, and their majestic passion filled their young and vicissitudes of life.
Face.
Zhu Qizhen didn't speak, just watched all this quietly.
Behind those blood-red eyes and excited faces, there is too much tragedy and heaviness hidden.
Li Zhenle immediately stepped forward and asked: "Your Majesty, where should we go next?"
The supply depot in Wala was destroyed, and the troops must be withdrawn first. The road ahead will be even more difficult.
In the vast desert, if you want to avoid the pursuit of the Oara people, you can only take them by surprise and head towards the place they think is the most impossible.
This is a game of life and death. If you are not careful, the entire three thousand battalion will be wiped out.
Zhu Qizhen had already planned in his mind and softly uttered three words: "Onan River!"