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One hundred and fifteen, Jushui Special Attack Team, come out!

The smoke of gunpowder drifts away and the dust settles.

Although the entire air defense combat process was nothing outstanding, it was quite a bit of a scene. No matter what, the chaos on the Xiangrui finally came to an end for the time being.

However, on this ever-changing battlefield, fighter jets are always fleeting--the Mithra fog that originally covered the entire lake beach has dissipated so little that it is left. The best time to push the elf army down the Moon Lake in one go is no longer there.

The decisive counterattack of the Super Auspicious Ugly Dragon Xuefeng turned the superstructure of the Xiangrui into ruins, causing up to four-digit casualties, and successfully delayed the Inca army's total attack for nearly an hour. Lieutenant General Daniel of the Elf Army seized this precious gap and sorted out his army again. In view of the serious losses of troops, he gave up some fortifications and trenches. The remaining more than 12,000 elves retreated to a place closer to the lake, and once again built a relatively tight arc-shaped defensive position.

The main force of the scheduled attack, the 10,000 Inca Imperial Guard, was tortured by various high-altitude fallen objects that were burning and exploded. In order to facilitate command, Tkumsei placed the assembly site directly under the Xiangrui. As a result, not only failed to enjoy the cool air, but on the eve of the whole team's charge, they were smashed into pieces by shells, slags, burning cloth and wood, twisted and deformed steel, and even charred corpses and other messy things.

Although it is far from being a loss of combat effectiveness, the morale of this army has definitely fallen sharply. Facing the elves with more than one's own and have formed a strong formation, even if the opponent's battles are uneven, it will probably be very difficult to attack this devastating imperial guards. As for those miscellaneous armies of various tribes who were previously used as meat bullets and have suffered nearly half of their casualties, let alone.

However, facing such a dilemma, even Fili, the guest general, was worried. He suggested that he temporarily withdraw his troops and rest and fight again tomorrow, but Tkumse, the highest commander of the Inca army, did not care at all. Instead, he looked full of confidence and didn't know if this old man pretended.

"Although the mist of Mithra has disappeared, the lost magic will not come back!"

In response to Fili's doubts, Tecumse explained, "The best time has indeed been missed, but for us, attack is still the best choice now. Under the continuous attack, the enemy's morale has been shaken, and the only magic advantage that can be taken out has almost been exhausted. Even without the suppression of the Misla Mist, their mages and priests would not have many remaining magic positions today.

But if we stop here, the cast of the Elf Army can use this night to re-memorize the spells. The enemy's generals may even make a desperate attempt to survive and break through the night under the cover of the night. With our army's weak military strength and the vast flat terrain nearby, it is impossible to block all enemies. Once these tens of thousands of enemy troops flow out, they will destroy the cities and villages on the south bank of Moon Lake like locusts like locusts! If this happens, there is no need to continue the battle!"

Speaking of this, Tecumse sighed faintly. After hesitating for a few seconds, he deliberately lowered his voice and said frankly another layer of concern.

"In addition... you also see that my army is not stable, or even reliable. I am nominally the common leader of all the indigenous peoples in this continent, but the only ones that can be controlled are only their own direct-government territories! As for the other tribes... Humph, who knows if they are using the idea of ​​rebellion to seize power!"

The old man who had been fighting for life sneered, and a hint of helpless sadness appeared in his eyes.

"In the fierce battle of bloody battles, everyone has to fight for their lives. Of course, they have no time to think about it. But if there is a chance to breathe and reflect, those tribal chiefs were too seriously injured in the previous stage of the battle, it is difficult to say whether they would have any resentment or even unpleasant intentions... If I can fight in one go and destroy the stubborn enemy, then all the cracks will be compensated under the halo of victory. On the other hand, if this battle is abandoned halfway, not to mention the enemy's abnormal movements, it is difficult to say how many of these troops will escape overnight!"

"So, I need to win a victory immediately, a clean and neat victory. No matter how much the price I have to pay, otherwise I will not even be qualified to pay the price in the future!"

Tecumse said in a heavy mood that he knew that these situations could not be hidden from inquiries from those interested people, so he simply spread them out and it would be better to slightly enhance the mutual trust between the two sides. "The current battle is not only to defeat foreign enemies, but also to deter those insiders who are ill-behaved! We must first settle the internal affairs of foreign wars. If the domestic war is not obeying orders, how can we agree to the outside world? As for which step we can go in the end, we can only do it..."

Through these bleak words, Feili roughly understood the difficult situation of the monarch: he had already stood on the edge of the cliff, and with one kick in the air, the last blow was almost gone.

As the "Immortal Bird" and top general who has been on the battlefield for more than 20 years, Tekumse enjoys lofty prestige and great influence on this plateau and the entire Mazka continent. However, a series of defeats and losses last year have greatly damaged the prestige he accumulated over the years; and the fall of Du Cusco has shaken the legitimacy of his rule. In the medieval feudal environment, once the monarch loses the capital and palace, he will usually be considered a destruction by the local aristocratic lords. And their obedience and allegiance end here, and the next is the time for free choice!

It is precisely because of this concept that so many places in the legendary "The Prince's Restoration" appear: those so-called restoration of the country. In fact, most of them just regrouped troops in places other than the capital and succeeded in counterattacking. It is not the true sense that the whole country was restored again after the decline.

Five hundred thousand elves were in the forefront, and their sides lost their cities and lands. The modern elite troops that the royal family had worked hard to form were almost exhausted. Faced with such a doomsday scene where the building was about to collapse, the noble chiefs of the Incas were indeed worried about their respective futures, but there were definitely many ambitious people who wanted to take advantage of the opportunity to take advantage of the situation. Even the shameless people who planned to lick the invasion and wanted to get a share of the country's demise.

According to Tkumse's story, when he returned from the front line to rescue the Temple of Time, he issued a decree to the lords of various places. He thought he could gather a team of at least 100,000 people, but as he walked along the way, he only collected about 40,000 troops, along with the Imperial Guards and the militia drawn from the royal territories. Moreover, most of the places where he came to the royal court were poor and destitute tribes. He was not even equipped with weapons and clothing.

The chiefs of the large tribe who had a little strength either called illness or cried poor on the surface, and insisted that they were unable to send troops. In secret, they were frantically recruiting the people of their subordinates to expand their troops, hoarding food and weapons, and using the idea of ​​preserving their strength and waiting for change.

Finally, it was intimidated by the great martial arts of the King of the Mountains for more than 20 years and the lofty status of the Goddess of the Sun in the minds of the Incas. At least in the south bank of Lake Moon, no tribal chief has openly surrendered to the Elves Army. But it is probably impossible for the secret communication of the song to be completely gone.

The Temple of Time has been destroyed. The Sun Goddess suddenly fell into a long sleep again, and the last shackles that bound these ambitious families have been untied. Once the news spreads, who knows if there will be a chief who is hot-headed and wants to flatter the new master, and is eager to poke Tkumse behind the back.

Moreover, people's hearts are separated from their stomachs. Even those tribes that come to serve the king are hard to say whether they are turning against each other in the last battle.

Therefore, in this battle of the Temple of Time, Tkumse not only could not afford to lose, but even delay it. After a little time, it would be a situation where internal and external forces were forced to disintegrate the country. Facing such numerous crises, it is no wonder that he could not wait to attack, and even if he was killed or injured, he would not wait for a moment.

It turned out that our group of volunteers came from all the way and were actually injecting capital into a junk stock that was at the limit down and was about to delist!

After listening to Tkumse's description, Feili felt very uncomfortable. Although he had known for a long time that the imperial government would never be able to give it to a newcomer with only oil and water. But after all, he did not expect that the situation was so bad that it looked like this. If he was not lucky, he would lose all his money.

Unfortunately, he and his legion have already boarded the leaky pirate ship, and it is impossible for him to withdraw from it at least in a short time.

"I can understand your majesty's concerns, too." Feili nodded. He had seen many things like this in the New Neserel Colony, but it was never so dangerous that it was at this level. After pondering for a moment, he spoke with a little hesitation.

"But it is not a good idea to just attack and fight for life. It would be fine. It would be fine to consume some foreign brands. If the imperial guards that His Majesty had left... I am bluntly speaking, even if you win here, if this most reliable basic unit loses too much and loses the ability to resist strong enemies outside and the inner towns, you may still end up with a rebellion from all sides."

When he said this, Feili was a little worried. After all, he made things too alarmist and too sarcastic. Unexpectedly, Tecumsed seemed to be well-educated. After hearing this, he just nodded casually while touching the beard on his chin.

"Yes, I don't plan to join the Imperial Guard anymore. I originally wanted to arrange these young men to pick fruits and show off their royal dignity to the tribes. Unexpectedly, things were out of control and the fruit became bones. Instead of letting the Imperial Guard go up and bite their teeth, it would be better to leave this hard bone to others to bite them. Haha, anyway, as long as you win this battle, the credit will always be attributed to me, the old man."

He smiled self-deprecatingly, "Grades are the leader, and mistakes are the ones. Although this principle is annoying, it is the same wherever it is placed. Since I am in this position, I can still enjoy the benefits of this unspoken rule."

After hearing this, Feili couldn't help but feel nervous: At this moment, the remaining soldiers of the Temple of Time have been trapped in the enemy's formation, and the vassal tribes have basically been crippled, and they do not intend to use the Imperial Guards. Could it be... This old man had the idea of ​​the Giant Bear Legion to drive his own imperial reinforcements that were not good at using it?

This idea made him sweat on his bald scalp. Just as he was about to think about how to refuse this "good intention", Tkumse's next words made him put his heart back in his stomach.

"Now it seems that we can only give this glory to those warriors from Japan. After all, they are the only ones who have not been attacked yet. It is considered a vitality

As he spoke, the King of the Mountain also glanced at the deck of the corpse's pillow. It was obvious that he had not had the idea of ​​hitting Feili and his group. It was just that he had chosen to give up because these guys were also slandering morale in the air strike. "I have sent someone to notify General Tadao Kuroshima. At most, he will take someone to ask for that... Oh, it was a Pig-Shut attack, and I don't know why those Japanese people gave such a strange name." He shrugged his shoulders. He seemed to think this name was ugly.

Tadao Kuroshima, Japanese samurai, Feiri chewed these two names carefully and vaguely remembered the small yellow men in the Inca army with long swords hanging on their waists and wooden clogs. "You are talking about the Japanese ronin death squad. I remember that they only seem to have a few hundred people, and it seems that there are a bit insufficient numbers!"

"The Japanese Rangers? Oh, you should be called that too." Tekumse was slightly stunned, but he quickly reacted. "However, General Kuroshima prefers to call his samurai group the Kikumi Special Attack Team, as if it has something to do with the family emblem passed down from his ancestors."

Speaking of this, Tkumsche paused, coughed lightly, his face a little strange, as if he had thought of something bad, "Although these warriors may have a little less number, and in some aspects it is different from ordinary people, they have some bad habits. But..."

The King of the Mountains coughed, cleared his throat, and said proudly. "They are definitely the best soldiers. Even if they are blocking a steel plate in front of them, they will chew it open with their teeth!"

On the back of the Inca army camp, the Japanese warrior camp area

On a small, low mound, a circle of square curtains was surrounded by white cloth and wooden sticks. Many Japanese warriors sat cross-legged around the thing they called "the formation". Some of them held their eyes closed, some were talking to each other in a low voice, and some were eating rice balls with relish on this cold and dry snow plateau. It was naturally impossible to plant rice and seaweed on this cold and dry snow plateau. But these rogues wrapped steamed barley grains in the radish skin and made a strange dry food that was different to the four-dimensional ones to miss the homeland thousands of miles away.

From the outside, these warriors are already very old, almost all of them have gray temples, and their faces and arms are full of terrifying scars. Many people are missing one eye. However, their figures are still very strong and their psychological qualities are even better--even though the sound of cannons and the sound of shouting and killing is shocking, their expressions are still very calm. They are neither excited nor afraid. It seems that they are not on the battlefield, but are watching operas.

Before they arrived in this war-torn land, these homeless ronin had fought in countries around the world as mercenaries, appeared on stage in countless famous or unknown battles, and then quietly left with a meager commission that was completely inconsistent with the military achievements, and had never left a trace on the celebration monument and commendation reports. The battle for the Temple of Time is currently underway, and its scale and tragic level are far less than that of many major wars on the Old Continent. In the eyes of these professional soldiers with high horizons, there is really no way for them to be able to raise any spirit.

"Xi Yuyu..."

A few long neighs from the horses broke the calm here. Accompanied by flying dust, a messenger held a token and crossed the warriors on the periphery and rushed straight into the main formation at the core of the camp.

The Japanese warriors' original formation covers a vast area, but it is very simple inside. There is no ceiling on top and no oil cloth or carpets are laid below. There is only a long table and a few stools scattered on the exposed grass, and a set of armor is supported by a wooden rack next to it. In addition, only a pink military flag is left inside the ground, with a half-hidden and half-disappearing chrysanthemum painted on it.

"Wow----"

The messenger rode his horse and stopped in the center of the formation, picked up the hem of the cassock and jumped to the ground.

"Kei Island Lord!" The old monk with all beards and frowns turned white and shouted loudly, "The front line has already flowed into a river, and the corpses are piled up like mountains. You are quite leisurely here!"

Called Kuroshima Jun, a middle-aged man in a black samurai suit. At this moment, he was sitting on a small folding stool that was extremely disproportionate to his body, holding a square of white silk, carefully wiping his precious sword with cold light and sharpness, with a fascinating expression on his face. He seemed to have not taken the war horse that was spraying heat on his face at all.

Although he was not a monk, the samurai collar almost shaved the front half of his head, leaving a very strange bun on the back of his head. He was tied with a white cloth strip on his forehead, a red dot was painted in the center, and the words "Must Win" were written in Japanese characters. Under his feet were clogs of Japanese specialty. This thing seemed to be simply a shoe in the eyes of foreigners, but it was just a rope tied to a wooden board.

Seeing that the other party was ignorant, the old monk had to walk forward and stretched out his hand to pull him out of the realm of being outside the world. "Koreijima Tadao. Stop wiping your village demon sword all day long. This thing can't become a Cao Yong sword even if it's wiped for a hundred years!"

Tadao Kuroshima sighed lightly and reluctantly moved his hand away from the blade, "I know, Master Jingshui! Does His Majesty the King of the Mountain have an order to convey you?"

While asking in a hoarse voice, he danced a sword flower casually. A flash of autumn water light immediately lit up, stabbing the old monk Jingshui Youhuo fox couldn't open his eyes. A cold cold light spread out from the blade, and countless sword marks appeared on the ground. As expected, it is indeed the world-famous Museang Demon Sword, and has reached the realm of sword energy being released.

"Yes. Your Majesty ordered you to lead your troops to attack immediately! Be sure to destroy the enemy's formation in one fell swoop before sunset." Jingshui Youhu said, "Although the enemy is scared, it is still more than twenty times that of your troops. Is Kuroshima Jun confident of completing the mission?"

Tadao Kuroshima raised his eyebrows and said proudly: "Master is too worried! The descendant of the chrysanthemum emblem has never considered the number of enemy soldiers when he was in the battle? Even though I am not as famous as my ancestors, and his voice moved the heavenly court, I am still devoted to sacrifice my life and loyalty to the king's affairs. I have never had the reputation of being timid and fearful of fighting. I am a mere ten thousand defeated soldiers and defeated them in the blink of an eye, but it is not in my eyes!"

"Your Excellency has this confidence. Very good!" Jingshui Youhu nodded and said, "Ling my brother's three hundred torture has been deployed now. Then, we will move one after another. Brothers work together and will definitely catch the enemy off guard. Oh, by the way..."

He fumbled in his arms for a few seconds and took out a delicate yellow scroll, "This battle is dangerous. In order to inspire the fighting spirit of Kuroshima, His Majesty specially wrote a sentiment letter for me to bring it with you for yourselves to see."

"Sentence? Your Majesty made a mistake again! That thing was posted at the post-war commendation meeting. Could it be that it was confused with the manifesto. Alas, it would be a bit difficult to let foreigners understand Eastern culture."

Tadoo Kuroshima smiled bitterly and shook his head. He took the scroll made of expensive bright yellow silk and spread it out to the sun. "What is it written on it... Well, in this battle, the whole army must do its best... Isn't this a famous saying by my ancestors on the eve of the last battle? Your Majesty probably copied it from the copybook I gave him!"

Looking at the so-called "feeling" with crooked handwriting and inconsistent content, Tadao Kuroshima suddenly felt amused and moved, but was also a little moved - although he was a different race of different writings and different races, the King of Takayama always had his own warriors in his heart. Compared with the Emperor of Japan, who had worked hard for his ancestors but eventually encountered contempt and abandonment, it was a world of difference.

He sighed, stuffed the scroll into the old monk's arms, then stood up suddenly, shouting loudly to the guards who had been waiting outside.

"Send the order! Beat the drum immediately and gather troops. Jushui special attack team, prepare for the whole team to come out!"

"Hi!"

Several handsome guards responded together.

The "Chrysanthemum" military flags were raised in the wind, and the Japanese style ground drums were immediately beaten. Warriors, servants, monks, and Onmyoji who accompanied the army were all busy with the upcoming battle. His Majesty the King of Takashima, who moved Tadao Kuroshima, was introducing the gossip news about this powerful samurai order to the visitors of the Naseril Empire.
Chapter completed!