funbook-pk Chapter 1370 A General Should Know When to Stop
Chapter 1370 A General Should Know When to Stop
Axe Bull's eyes flashed with ferocity, and at the same time, a report came through the channel from his own sniper: "Target locked! Fire!"
"boom!"
Almost at the same time that Axe Bull finished speaking!
Another beam of blue and white light from above shot into the broken second-floor window with even greater speed and precision!
"Boom!"
A muffled thud accompanied by a burst of flames erupted from the window, and the hidden sniper robot, along with its cover, was blasted into the air!
"Good job!"
Axe Bull roared, taking advantage of the moment when the robots surrounding him were momentarily slowed down because their own sniper had been eliminated!
He controlled the mech, wielding his giant axe with unparalleled power, and with a powerful downward slash, he completely shattered the head and half of the shoulder of the robot in front of him!
"Holy shit you...!"
The axe-bull attacked while unleashing a barrage of attacks...
He hadn't felt this good in a long time, especially with the help of the mech.
Without command and sniper threat, the remaining robots were quickly wiped out by the Axe Bull Squad's fierce attack.
The battle lasted less than twenty minutes. All sixty robots that had been deployed were reduced to piles of smoky, twisted, and deformed scrap metal, scattered across the ruins ravaged by artillery fire and mech combat.
The Axe Bull Squad also suffered moderate damage to several mechs and the complete destruction of two, but the people controlling the mechs were perfectly fine. Axe Bull told them to evacuate immediately!
Regardless, this battle was brilliantly fought!
Axe Bull had the reconnaissance mechs in the sky investigate and confirmed that there were no more robots on the battlefield, only some robots still had energy remaining near the palace.
Axe Bull immediately handed the battlefield over to Handa and his team. They opportunely ordered all the mechs, along with the wreckage of the robots and their own two mechs, to leave the battlefield...
It was as if they had never existed...
Inside the palace, Shahar was listening to the reports of the battle results from the robots beside him.
Shahar even suspected there was something wrong with his ears...
"What did you say?"
However, the robot beside him showed little emotion, saying to Shahar, "All sixty robots have vanished; not a single one survived..."
After hearing this, Shahar coughed up another mouthful of blood!
Sixty...sixty...all...all gone?" He collapsed onto the cold throne, his body trembling violently, the madness in his eyes completely replaced by bottomless fear and despair. His last trump card, the steel legion that held all his hopes for a counterattack, had been crushed like a chicken or a dog before the enemy's even more powerful mechs! The enemy not only possessed long-range sniping capabilities, but also such terrifying frontal assault and close-combat destructive power!
"Your Majesty! Your Majesty!" The old minister Igor supported him in alarm. "Urgent report from the front! The main force of the East Asians... the main force has broken through the outer city defenses! They are advancing towards the palace! Those civilians... they can't stop their attack at all!"
Shahar shoved Igor away, his bloodshot eyes filled with only a last vestige of survival instinct and utter madness: "Defend? What's there to defend? We can't hold them back! We can't hold them back at all!"
He staggered to his feet and roared at the remaining twenty personal guard robots, "You! Protect me! Immediately! Evacuate through the secret passage! To the northern fortress! Now!!"
His last shred of reason told him that staying here would only lead to death, and the 300,000 "seeds" that were retreating north were his only lifeline.
"Yes, Your Majesty Shahar."
The twenty robots immediately contracted their formation, protecting Shahar in the center like a cold iron wall, and quickly moved towards the entrance of an extremely hidden escape passage deep inside the palace.
Shahar stumbled along, surrounded by robots, turning back for one last look at the magnificent yet crumbling palace, his eyes filled with resentment and bitterness: "Xiao Ce! Handa! The grudge of today... I... I will make you pay a hundred... a thousand times over..."
Before the harsh words were finished, a deafening explosion came from afar. It seemed that an important fortification outside the palace had been hit directly by the Allied forces' heavy artillery, and the entire palace trembled.
Shahar was so frightened he stumbled and dared not linger. Swept away by the robot, he vanished into the dark depths of the secret passage, then fled...
At this very moment, the core area of the Slavic Empire's capital has been transformed into a battlefield.
Han Da's armored command vehicle rolled over the broken rubble and stopped at a relatively high vantage point.
He looked down through the dusty observation window at the city engulfed in chaos and flames.
The battle did not end completely with Shahar's escape and the destruction of his last sixty robots.
Just as Shahar had hoped, some of the soldiers and civilians, who were completely bound to the war machine by his lies and fears, were still putting up desperate and sporadic resistance.
The street fighting entered its most brutal phase, with sniper shots and Molotov cocktails flying from every street and every dilapidated building.
The 100,000 remnants of Shahar's regular army, mixed among the thoroughly brainwashed or desperate civilians, made a last-ditch effort using the complex terrain.
"Report to the marshal!"
An officer, his face covered in soot, rushed to the command vehicle and respectfully reported to Han Da: "The outer square and main hall complex of the palace have been basically cleared! About three thousand enemy soldiers have been captured, but there are still small groups of die-hards resisting in the inner court area, relying on fortifications!"
"In addition... there are still sporadic firefights in several blocks of the city. The resisters are mostly armed civilians mixed with a small number of defeated soldiers. They are using the ruins to snipe, attack lone soldiers, and burn supplies..."
Han Da frowned, his gaze sweeping across the smoke-filled city.
Victory was already a foregone conclusion. Shahar's core regime had been destroyed, his most relied-upon robotic forces had been completely lost, and his main forces had retreated north.
The resistance they are facing is nothing more than a death throes and the last vestiges of Shahar's treacherous scheme.
However, every sniper shot could mean casualties among their own soldiers, and also the needless deaths of more deceived Slavic civilians.
He saw on a street corner in the distance that several ragged teenagers, driven by a soldier with a ferocious expression, were trembling as they raised crudely made Molotov cocktails and threw them at a slowly advancing armored vehicle.
The armored vehicle was unharmed, but a single burst of fire from the machine gun on its roof instantly fell them to the ground in pools of blood.
This scene was like a cold awl piercing Han Da's heart.
This is not war, this is massacre.
Shahar has almost achieved his goal: to use the blood of the Slavs to smear the blades of the East Asian coalition.
"Cease the attack."
Han Da's voice was not loud, but it carried an undeniable determination!
After inspecting the scene, he had already made a judgment about the situation and there was no need to continue.
Because what follows is no longer a war...
The adjutant was taken aback: "Marshal? The inner court's assassins..."
"I said, stop the attack!"
Han Da turned his head sharply, his eyes gleaming as he coldly ordered, "Order all troops to halt their advance towards the inner palace and all resistance points within the city! Construct fortifications on the spot and consolidate the areas already occupied!"
"General Wei Wuji, order the air force to cease bombing and strafing targets within the city! All units must restrain their soldiers and strictly prohibit firing at unarmed personnel or obviously non-threatening targets!"
The order was passed on quickly.
The intense gunfire seemed to be choked, abruptly diminishing by more than half, leaving only sporadic, small-scale exchanges of fire stubbornly echoing in certain corners of the city, further highlighting the eerie silence that followed the great battle.
Han Da took a deep breath and ordered the communications soldier: "Notify all frontline troops to use vehicle-mounted and handheld megaphones to broadcast repeatedly into the city in Slavic language!"
Soon, the voices of the Allied soldiers, amplified by loudspeakers, echoed over the burning ruins and ravaged streets, drowning out the sporadic gunfire and the cries of the wounded.
"Slavic people! Lay down your weapons! Stop your futile resistance!"
"Your Tsar, Nikolaevich Shahar, has long since abandoned you!"
"Look around you! Look at this burning city! Look at your fallen loved ones! Where are they?!"
"He performed dressed as a soldier, but he had already escaped through the palace's secret passage with his last divine messenger! He fled north, leaving you all to die in the fire pit!"
"He deceived you! He used your blood to prolong his own life! Everything on the leaflets is true! He is the culprit who betrayed the Slavs and used you as human shields!"
"The East Asian Federation coalition has no intention of massacring civilians! We are fighting against the tyrant Shahar and the evil forces he has colluded with!"
"Put down your weapons and come out of your hiding place! We guarantee your safety! We will provide food, water, and medical care!"
"Think of your families! Think of your children! Don't go to your deaths for the tyrant who abandoned you!"
“Look at those fallen ‘messengers of the gods.’ They are not invincible, nor will they protect you! Shahar’s lies have been exposed!”
"You have one night to think! Lay down your weapons and come out at dawn tomorrow! If you remain obstinate and continue to attack our forces, we will be forced to eliminate the threat! Don't say we didn't warn you!"
The broadcast echoed again and again, like a cold tide washing over the city in despair. The sound penetrated the walls and reached the ears of the survivors hiding in the ruins, cellars, and corners of attics.
The last remaining fighters in the inner palace launched an even more intense barrage shortly after the broadcast, seemingly in a final frenzy, but were quickly suppressed by the precise firepower of the Allied forces and eventually fell silent.
They were either annihilated or chose to surrender.
Meanwhile, the gunfire from the scattered resistance points in the city gradually subsided.
The broadcast's content struck like a heavy hammer against the hearts of those still hesitant, fearful, or angry.
After speaking, the army withdrew from the capital, but left some soldiers at key points...
At this moment, the people of the capital were plunged into boundless fear...
"Could it be... that the Tsar... has really run away?"
An old man huddled under a collapsed house, his cloudy eyes gazing toward the palace, where there was only fire and thick smoke, no flags or figure symbolizing the emperor's presence.
He recalled Shahar's performance in the square, dressed in his old military uniform, and the picture on the leaflet depicting the royal palace indulging in pleasure while driving people to their deaths. A chilling despair and a sense of being deceived welled up inside him.
"The Tsar...he deceived us...he used us as firewood..."
A woman holding the body of her dead child, her eyes vacant, muttering to herself.
The sound of the shield on the radio felt like a knife cutting into her heart.
The fanaticism she had previously been swayed by to defend her homeland has now turned into boundless regret and coldness.
"Those divine messengers...those lumps of iron...are they all truly finished..."
A defeated soldier hiding in the sewers recalled the horrific scene he had witnessed earlier, where robots were instantly destroyed by blue and white beams of light. He also remembered the broadcast that the Tsar had fled with the last divine messenger. His last remaining will to resist completely crumbled.
He threw away the broken gun that had run out of bullets.
The night was deep, enveloping the war-torn capital...
Apart from the heavy footsteps of patrolling Allied soldiers and the groans of the wounded, the city was shrouded in a stifling, trial-awaiting silence.
The burning building occasionally crackled and popped, the firelight illuminating faces that were either numb, fearful, or thoughtful.
The broadcast continued tirelessly, repeatedly etching the messages "abandoned by the Tsar," "cease resistance," and "chance to survive" into the minds of the survivors.
Han Da stood beside the command vehicle, gazing at the silhouette of the city, silent in its pain.
The cold wind blew his cloak, bringing with it the acrid smell of gunpowder and blood.
He knew that for many Slavs, this night would be a long and painful process of rebuilding after the collapse of their faith. He gave them a choice, but also drew a line.
Whether the dawn brings the light of peace or a more brutal purge depends on the remaining rationality in the hearts of the survivors within the city.
"A general should know when to stop."
Han Da muttered to himself, his gaze fixed on the boundless darkness to the north.
There, the fleeing Shahar, the 300,000 sparks, and the mysterious reinforcements remain a sword hanging over their heads.
But tonight, this city, which has bled profusely, needs to catch its breath.
He turned and walked back into the car, leaving behind a weary figure.
The decisive battle was not yet over, but the fall of the capital and the complete exposure of the Tsar's lies had already drawn a blood-stained but crucial comma in this long Eastern Expedition.
Next, will we clean up the mess or face an even fiercer storm? The answer will be revealed at dawn.
The next day, Han Da got up early to wait.
After sunrise, many Slavic countries, looking rather disheveled, gradually emerged from their hiding places...
They staggered, their expressions numb and fearful. Men supported their injured relatives, women held their silent children tightly, and the elderly, their backs hunched, had only the bewilderment of surviving a disaster and endless worry about the future in their cloudy eyes.
Last night's broadcast was like a cold chisel, shattering the last vestiges of the fervor forcibly ignited in them by the Shahars, leaving only the shame of being deceived and the grief of losing their homes...