Shimazu Dairo's sudden attack was something no one expected. His comrades who had just fought side by side to control the Ryukyu monarchs and ministers turned into murderous demons in the blink of an eye, and struck without mercy.
Although French soldiers are all veterans, they are soldiers in the era of hot weapons after all. They only wear woolen military uniforms, and their defense against tachi is basically zero.
The one-meter-long tachi inherits the craftsmanship of the Tang Dynasty sword. It is extremely sharp and can even cut off the head and shoulders with one slash.
The French army's counterattack was extremely weak. Because the distance between the enemy and ourselves was too close, the long rifles could not clear the enemy. Even if the French army on the periphery could make one or two thrusts, the Japanese samurai's sophisticated armor could also remove a large number of enemies. Part of the strength, unless you are particularly unlucky to be stabbed in the gap in the armor and injured, the rest will simply ignore the bayonet attack.
What's even more terrible is that since Molière's order was to capture people alive, in order to prevent stray bullets from accidentally injuring the Ryukyu monarchs and ministers, these soldiers had no bullets in their guns at all.
This was a completely one-sided massacre. No matter how advanced the firearms were, it was useless in an environment without him. In such a small and dense environment, only cold weapons could exert their greatest power.
"Why, you despicable barbaric warriors, why have I given you so little? Why are you betraying me?" Molière was sweating profusely in pain. The long tachi was nailed through his thigh, and the wound was painful. He couldn't move at all.
What was even more painful was the doubt in his heart. He couldn't figure out what he had done wrong.
Shimazu Dalang held a rib in his hand and flashed in the crowd like a ghost. He had received the most rigorous samurai training since he was a child. He could still kill people without a tachi.
"Go to hell, white-skinned ghost." The sharp ribs cut through the air like lightning, slit the soldier's throat, and the bloody arrow spurted out more than a meter away.
Shimazu Dairo's demon face pocket was now covered with blood, which made the terrifying atmosphere around him even more vivid and real.
There were no obstacles in front of him. He stepped forward and grabbed the hilt of the tachi nailed to his thigh, twisting his wrist lightly.
"Ah, damn barbarian..." Molière watched the sharp blade rotating in his muscles, and the severe pain almost made him pass out.
"I'm not a barbarian...compared to everything you have done, my morals are so high that I can be called a saint." Shimazu Dairo gritted his molar teeth and said in strange and emphatic English, and then he slammed his wrist hard With a sharp draw, the sword brought out a bloody arrow from Molière's flesh and blood.
"Ah." A painful scream shocked all the French troops present, and then Shimazu Dairo performed a sword trick, and the blade pressed tightly against Molière's throat.
"French people, listen, you can compete with me to see who is faster, your bullets or my knife..." Just as he was saying this, a voice suddenly shouted from behind, "Sir, be careful." followed by a man. The warrior's body suddenly rushed forward, and the light of the sword shot up from the bottom.
The sneak attackers were Major General Bruce and the two French soldiers beside him. When Shimazu was torturing Molière with a tachi, Major General Bruce's eyes moved and the two soldiers understood and picked up their bayonets to stab the samurai in the face pocket. And go.
As for Bruce himself, he took out the pistol from his waist like lightning, and his eyes were locked on Shimazu Dalang's temple.
It's a pity that he underestimated the training that samurai received since childhood. Close combat and chaotic fighting in complex environments are all compulsory courses for Japanese samurai. Bruce's every move cannot escape the eyes of samurai Shimazu Dairo who protects him.
"Kill." With a loud roar, the sharp tachi cut off the wrists of the two soldiers. The rifle fell to the ground before it was pierced. When the sword was used hard, the samurai's figure had already rushed to the muzzle of Bruce's gun. .
There was a muffled sound, the revolver fired, and the bullet hit the armor on the warrior's chest. There was a muffled sound, the bullet penetrated the armor and penetrated into the chest, and the bloody arrow flew out.
"Sir, be careful..." The injured warrior advanced instead of retreating. He spread his limbs like a bear hug to block all shooting angles of the bullet, and pressed towards Bruce step by step.
Bang bang bang... three more shots, the crazy warrior's tiger body shook three times, but still did not retreat. He roared and rushed forward with all his strength, and actually saved the pale General Bruce.
"Madman... you madman, let me go..." The blood-stained demon mask was so close that he almost kissed his face. The pungent smell of blood made Bruce's lower back sore.
"Get away..." Bruce pulled the trigger desperately, and all the bullets in the revolver were empty, but the ghost warrior still held him tightly and refused to retreat, but the sharp mouth of the devil's face was flowing out. Red blood.
This scene was so terrifying. Not only was Bruce scared, but the French soldiers around him were also scared. They suddenly felt that those tribal warriors in black Africa who were covered in dye were as childish as these Japanese samurai. year old children.
The cold armor was crisscrossed with traces of swords and guns. The red eyes in the devil-like face pocket were moving, and the sharp mouth was still vomiting blood. This was not a human being at all.
"Come here... help me quickly." In the general's roar, the hands of countless soldiers deep under the viewing platform pulled down the poor general and the terrifying warrior.
With a bang, Major General Bruce's back hit the ground, and the dying warrior pressed hard on him. The French soldier next to him tried his best to pull and lift them, but they couldn't separate the two people at all. Just like falling deeply in love with Bruce and never letting go until death.
Puff puff... The French army had no choice but to pick up the bayonet and stab it down, looking for gaps in the armor and stabbing in. After more than ten stabs, the warrior was considered dead.
Since ancient times, those who are violent are afraid of those who are stunned, and those who are stunned are afraid of life-threatening. What is life-threatening? Of course, they are afraid of madmen. Today, these crazy Japanese samurai have made all French soldiers know what it means to ignore life.
Not only do they ignore the lives of their enemies, they don't even care about their own lives.
Shimazu's hand was very steady, and the knife was placed on Molière's neck. His eyes were calmly staring at the dead warrior, and he even recited a very famous Japanese death poem.
"There must be light at the end of the blissful hell. When all the clouds and fog are gone, there is only a bright moon in my heart... Death is not terrible. You have become a god. Heroic spirits should not go far away. Please wish me a long-lasting martial arts fortune."
Molière couldn't understand what Shimazu Dairo was talking about, but he knew that he had encountered a pervert today, and he also knew that there was no way to reason with such a lunatic.
"You guys give up, you won't succeed, you only have a hundred people... Look, the third wave of landing troops has arrived..."
Shimazu raised his eyes and saw that there were indeed more than ten small boats on the sea, and a new wave of French reinforcements was about to land.
"Come on, stand up, you are my hostage..." Shimazu Dalang picked up Molière and dragged him to the crowd of Ryukyu monarchs like a dead dog. The one hundred samurai had already killed the monks on the viewing platform. The whole army was cut down, and the floor was covered with corpses.
The warriors stood shoulder to shoulder, and the French army outside formed a large circular formation. They protected King Shangtai and the ministers and began to retreat to the northwest.
"Get out of the way...get out of here. If you want to kill your special envoy, get out of the way...get out of the way..." There was a lot of curses in the circle.
Molière's life was indeed valuable. After three swords were placed on his neck, all the French soldiers gave up the idea of attacking to save others, especially Bruce, who was now pale with fear.
"Don't hurt the special envoy... We can negotiate, we can negotiate..." The general was cursing in his heart, Damn it, Molière, if only you could just stay on the battleship and let me execute the plan.
I have to come in person, I have to come in person to die. It really complies with the Chinese saying, "It's hard to persuade a damn ghost with good words." I'm so unlucky that I went on this mission with you.
Although he cursed in his heart, the general also knew that the relationship between Molière and Napoleon III was extraordinary, and there were even some dirty rumors leaked in the Paris aristocratic circle.
Bruce could not verify the authenticity of these rumors, but he knew that Molière was the only person who dared to calm down the Emperor's anger when he was angry. He even heard that Molière dared to suppress the orders conveyed by His Majesty the Emperor when he was angry.
This kind of minister around the emperor is not something that an officer stationed abroad like him can offend. He can die today, but Molière can die.
The current scene is very strange. The samurai formed a circular formation to protect the Ryukyu monarchs and ministers and slowly moved toward Shuri Castle in the northeast. Outside this circle were nearly three hundred French troops in red, forming a larger circle. The formation followed slowly.
The rifles and bayonets of the French army all rushed in, shining coldly like a jungle, while the swords in the hands of the Shimazu samurai rushed outward, and blood dripped from the blades.
A small circle, with a large circle on the outside. The two circles moved forward cautiously. They stared at each other and no one dared to make a move.
In the more peripheral cities, thousands of French soldiers formed a larger front line, killing and setting fire to all kinds of evil. And surrounding this city, there were countless brave New Army soldiers and Ryukyu warriors, rushing toward the enemy like moths to a flame. go.
The chaos at this point has made everyone involved drunk, especially Molière. He even felt like he was having a dream from which he would never wake up.
"Why don't you attack... attack, attack the enemy..." Molière struggled desperately, and the skin on his neck was cut by the knife, and he couldn't feel the pain.
"Bruce...are you going to betray France? Order the attack. You damn idiot, attack quickly..."
Before Molière, the lunatic, could finish shouting, King Shangtai in the battle formation spoke, "General Bruce, tell your soldiers to stop fighting immediately and withdraw from Naha immediately. Don't test our patience."
