Cannon Fire Arc-Chapter 797 - 37 When Prosen Became an Unbridled Wild Horse (6K)_3

Chapter 797: Chapter 37 When Prosen Became an Unbridled Wild Horse (6K)_3

The Emperor fell silent for a few seconds and replied, “You’re right, he never makes mistakes. We need a plan for defense and counterattack.”

————

October 15th, in Ante City, Ronied, the Kazarlian First Front Army Headquarters and the Advanced General Headquarters.

Wang Zhong entered the room, took off his raincoat, and handed it to Vasily.

As Vasily hung the raincoat on the coat rack by the door, he said, “This year’s onset of winter comes with fierce rain, many areas have reported flooding.”

Wang Zhong: “The climate has been strange for years, didn’t it freeze over prematurely last year?”

...

“Report!” The communications staff bellowed at almost point-blank range.

“Sukabule! You scared the hell out of me!” Wang Zhong shouted.

Completely unapologetic, the communications staff stated, “Urgent telegram from Marshal Davarish, the Plathen Emperor has been assassinated; including Marshal Rundstedt, several high-ranking officers have perished.”

Wang Zhong put on a show of shock, “What?”

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The communications staff extended the telegram, “See for yourself.”

Wang Zhong glanced over the telegram with feigned interest and handed it to Vasily, while saying, “I wonder if this incident will affect the decision-making of the Prosen High Command.”

Vasily: “According to previous intelligence, the relationship between General Giles, who perished, and the Plathen Emperor was quite good; it might affect his decisions.”

Wang Zhong nodded and passed through the lobby into the Headquarters map room.

Pavlov asked, “What’s happening outside? Why are you shouting so loudly?”

Wang Zhong: “The Plathen Emperor has been assassinated.”

“Ah?” Pavlov was genuinely shocked—a more substantial surprise than Wang Zhong’s earlier exaggerated performance.

Popov was drinking water and spewed it out immediately.

Other people in the room stopped as well, staring wide-eyed at Wang Zhong.

Someone asked the most critical question, “Is he dead?”

Wang Zhong: “No. I actually hope he doesn’t die, so I can bring him to justice in the future.”

Vasily: “With that pistol at your waist that killed two generals?”

What a gun trial!

Wang Zhong: “The criticism from a weapon cannot replace a court’s judgment; I will personally capture him and bring him to trial, and if the court sentences him to hanging, I will personally send him to the gallows. If the verdict is beheading, I want to be the executioner who cuts the guillotine’s rope.”

Pavlov: “So, the Emperor isn’t dead. What about his senior officers? If Celtic Marshal, the Imperial Chief of Staff, was killed, it could cause chaos in the Prosen Empire’s logistics system.”

Wang Zhong: “It seems not.”

Pavlov: “Then we’ll just keep doing what we’re doing, as if nothing ever happened.”

Popov nodded in agreement.

Wang Zhong: “As generals, indeed, there’s nothing we can do, but—I need to make a call to my sister.”

By this time, Wang Zhong was already considering the post-war situation; after all, he was entrusted by a friend to take care of Olga, so he had to be attentive.

That’s why he often publicly referred to His Majesty the Tsar as “sister,” which is said to have made Olga very happy for a long time.

Wang Zhong picked up the receiver: “Connect me to Yeburg, Summer Palace.”

“Understood.”

After a series of connections, Olga’s voice came through from the other side of the receiver: “Hello? Is that you, brother?”

Wang Zhong: “Yes, it’s me. How have you been holding up lately, little sister?”

“Not too bad, just that seeing casualty figures every day is quite distressing. There are still over five thousand casualties every day; when will this end?”

Wang Zhong: “Think of it this way, we continue to carry out our sniping campaign on all fronts, the enemy is surely suffering more. And they have fewer human resources than us.”

In fact, accounting for total population, the Empire of Prosen is not smaller than Ante, but a significant portion of this population are people from Meliania, Moravia, Carolingian, and the Kingdom of Sardinia they control.

Melianians and Moravians are actually part of the same cultural system as the Anteans, and the Carolingians and Sardins don’t speak Prosenese; if only the Prosen-speaking population were counted, Prosen’s human resources would be far less than Ante’s.

Therefore, the Prosens cannot afford to drag on.

Olga: “I guess that’s the only way to see it. By the way, did you hear? The Plathen Emperor was assassinated, too bad he didn’t die, otherwise the war might have ended.”

Wang Zhong: “Ending that way wouldn’t be good, our warriors still have pent-up fury, and they will always have a knot in their hearts, as would their descendants.

“By then, the Prosen brats would say, ‘Ah, it wasn’t you who defeated us, had our own people not killed the Emperor, you would have been beaten long ago,’ and our children would only be able to stare.

“Imagine that scene!”

Perhaps Olga really did imagine it and fell silent for a few seconds before saying, “That’s infuriating. Why do you sound like someone who has seen such a thing?”

Because I have really seen it and was quite furious.

Zhongzheng was incompetent; had you reclaimed Nanjing yourself, chucking those dying invaders from Japan into the sea, would we be in this position?

But no! You pathetic thing, still suffered a huge defeat in ’44. Allies are winning everywhere, only you’re collapsing. No wonder a few years later, 800,000 were beaten by 600,000.

Olga: “So, brother, why are you calling? I’ve already pushed as many new tanks as possible towards your end; there really aren’t any more tanks left.”

Wang Zhong: “I want you to send a message of sympathy to the Plathen Emperor on behalf of the Antean Royal Family, expressing relief that he’s alive, so that we can take the capital and put him on the gallows.

“And hope that he takes better care of his security in the future, trying not to die before defeat.”