C478 Crazy Japanese samurai

Taro Shimadzu's violent attack was something that no one expected. His comrade who had controlled the Ryukyu's officials turned into a murderous demon in the blink of an eye. His attacks were merciless.

Even though the French soldiers were all veterans, they were after all soldiers from the era of hot weapons. They only had a set of woolen military uniform on them, so their defense towards Katana s was basically zero.

A one meter long Katana, having inherited Tang Dao's craftsmanship, was extremely sharp. It could even cut off half a shoulder with a slash of its blade.

As the enemy and my side were too close to each other, the long rifle simply could not get rid of them. Even if the French army could make one or two sudden stabs, the Japanese samurai's exquisite armour could still take off most of its strength, unless they were unlucky enough to get hurt in the slits of the armor. The remaining soldiers simply ignored the bayonet attacks.

What was even worse was that Molière's order to capture them alive, in order to prevent the flow of bullets from accidentally injuring the Ryukyu's officials, these soldiers did not even have bullets in their guns.

This was a one-sided massacre. No matter how advanced the firearms were, it was useless in such an environment. In such a narrow and dense environment, only cold weapons could display the greatest power.

"Why? Have I given you little, you lowly barbarian warriors? Why did you betray me! " Molière was in so much pain that he was sweating profusely. The long Katana had pierced his thigh and the pain from the wound made him unable to move.

Even more painful was the doubt in his heart. He desperately tried to figure out what he had done wrong.

Taro Shimadzu held onto the costal deviation, and it flashed through the crowd like a ghost. He had been trained as a warrior since he was young, and without the Katana, he could still kill people.

"Go to hell, White Skin Ghost!" The sharp costal deviation pierced through the air like lightning, slicing through the soldier's throat.

Taro Shimadzu's demonic mask was now completely stained with blood, causing the terrifying atmosphere around him to become even more spirited and real.

There were no longer any obstacles in his way. Taking a step forward, he grabbed onto the sword hilt of the Katana that was nailed in his thigh.

"AHH!" "Damn barbarians …" Molière saw the sharp blade spinning inside his muscles, and the intense pain almost made him faint.

"I am not a barbarian... "Compared to what you have done, I can already be called a saint!" Taro Shimadzu gritted his teeth as he spoke in English, he then fiercely pulled out his wrist, and the Katana pulled out a blood arrow from Molière's flesh.

"AHH!" A painful scream came out, shaking all of the French Army present. Following that, the Katana unleashed its blade attack and the blade tip pressed tightly onto Molière's throat.

"Listen up, Frenchmen. You guys can compete with me in speed. Let's see if your bullets are faster or my knives are faster …" Just as he was speaking, a loud shout came from behind him, "Sir, be careful!" Immediately after, one of the warriors dashed forward, and the blade light fiercely swept up.

Just as Taro Shimadzu was about to torture Molière with his Katana, the eyes of the two soldiers suddenly changed and they understood what was going on. The two soldiers then raised their bayonets and pierced towards the direction of the warrior's face.

As for Bruce himself, he took out a handgun from his waist as fast as lightning, his gaze locking onto Taro Shimadzu's temple.

Unfortunately, he had underestimated the warriors' training since childhood, close combat, and the chaotic environment they were fighting in. These were all compulsory lessons for Japanese samurai, so Bruce's every move could not escape the eyes of the Warriors.

"Kill!" With a loud roar, the sharp Katana cut off the wrists of the two soldiers. Before the rifle could pierce through them, they had already fallen to the ground.

With a dull thud, the revolver opened fire, and the bullet struck the armor on the chest of the warrior. With a dull thud, the bullet pierced through the chest of the warrior, causing blood to spurt out.

"Lord, be careful …" The injured warrior did not retreat but chose to advance instead. He spread out his limbs like a bear hug to block off all the angles of the bullet, and then pressed down towards Bruce step by step.

Pah pah pah … The crazy warrior tiger body shook three more times, but it did not retreat. He bellowed and rushed forward, but he actually managed to save the pale General Bruce.

"Madman... "You lunatic, let go of me …" The demon's blood-stained mask was so close to his face that it almost kissed it. The pungent smell of blood made the back of Bruce's waist ache.

"Scram …" Bruce pulled the trigger with all his might, causing all the bullets in the gun to be emptied. However, the Ghostly Fighter still held onto him tightly, but the demon's face was covered with blood.

This scene was too scary. Not only was Bruce scared, the surrounding French soldiers s were also scared, they suddenly felt that the tribe warriors in Black Africa, who were covered in dye, were as childish as a three-year-old compared to this group of Japanese samurai s.

On the cold metal armor, there were traces of swords and spears. The demonic red eyes were rolling around and blood was still coming out from its sharp mouth. This wasn't a human.

"Someone, come …" Hurry and save me! " At the general's roar, countless soldiers pulled the poor general and that terrifying warrior down from the stands.

With a bang, Bruce's back hit the ground, and the dying warrior pressed down hard onto him. The French Army at the side struggled as hard as they could, trying their best to lift them up, but they could not separate the two. The dying warrior was as if he had fallen in love with Bruce, and did not let go even when he died.

Puff puff puff … The French army had no choice but to use their bayonets to stab downwards, looking for gaps in their armor to stab in. After dozens of slashes, the warrior was finally dead.

Since the ancient times, people had always been scared, scared to death, and scared to death. What was there to be afraid of if they didn't want to live? Of course they were afraid of madmen. Today, these crazy Japanese samurai s had let all the French army know what it meant to ignore life.

Not only did they disregard the lives of their enemies, they did not even know their own fate.

Taro Shimadzu's hand was very stable, the blade was placed on Molière's neck, he stared at the dead warrior calmly, and started chanting a very famous poem about the world.

"There must be light at the end of the world of absolute bliss. The clouds and mist in my heart have all dispersed. Only the bright moon remains …" Death is not scary at all. You have already become a god, Heroic Spirits shouldn't go too far.

Molière didn't understand what Taro Shimadzu was saying, but he knew that he had met a pervert today, and he also knew that it was impossible to argue with this kind of madman.

"Give up! You won't succeed, you only have 100 people … Look, the third wave of Landing forces has arrived … "

Taro Shimadzu looked up and saw that there were indeed more than ten small boats on the ocean. A new wave of reinforcements from the French Army was about to land.

"Come, stand up. You're my hostage …" Taro Shimadzu dragged Molière like a dead dog and dragged him into the pile of Ryukyu's officials, while the 100 warriors had already cleared all the French soldiers on the viewing platform, leaving behind only corpses on the ground.

The warriors stood shoulder to shoulder, the French outside forming a large circle formation, they were protecting King Shang Tai and the other ministers as they retreated towards the northwest direction.

"Get out of the way …" All of you, scram! If you want the life of your envoy, you should hurry up and give way... "Scram! Scram! Scram!" There were curses coming from the circular array.

Molière's life was truly valuable. When the three Katana were placed around his neck, all the French soldiers dispelled their urge to force an attack to save him, especially since Bruce was so scared that his face had turned pale.

"Don't hurt His Excellency the Special Envoy... "We can negotiate, we can negotiate …" The general cursed in his heart. Damned Molière, if you just stayed on the ship, wouldn't I be able to execute the plan?

I had to come personally, I had to come personally to die. It was in accordance with the Chinese saying, 'Good words are hard to persuade damnable ghosts'. I was so unlucky, why did I have to go on this mission with you.

Although he was cursing in his heart, the general still knew that Molière had an unusual relationship with Napoleon III. There were even some unclean rumors being leaked out from the circle of nobility in Paris.

Bruce was unable to verify the authenticity of these rumors, but he knew that Molière was the only person who dared to persuade the French Emperor when he was angry, and he even heard that Molière dared to suppress the order the Emperor passed down when he was angry.

This kind of person who was close to the emperor was not someone a foreign military officer could offend. Today, he could die but Molière could die.

The situation now was extremely strange, the warriors formed a circular array to protect the Ryukyu officials as they slowly moved towards the northeast direction of the Shouli City. Outside of this circle were nearly three hundred red-clothed French soldiers, forming a larger circular formation as they slowly followed.

The French army's rifles and bayonets all rushed in, shining like a forest with a cold glint, while the island warriors collectively rushed out with the Katana in their hands, fresh blood dripping down from the blades.

It was a small circle with a big circle outside. The two circles carefully moved forward. They stared at each other without daring to make a move.

In the outer cities, thousands of French soldiers formed a larger front to kill and burn, and around the city, countless brave New Army and Ryukyu Warriors charged like moths to a flame towards their enemies.

At this point in the chaotic battle, everyone was drunk on the news, especially Molière. He felt that he was in the midst of a dream that he would never wake up from.

"Why don't you guys attack … "Attack, attack the enemy …" Molière struggled with all his might. The skin on his neck was cut by the Katana but he still could not feel any pain.

"Bruce... Do you want to betray the France? Give the order to attack! "You damned idiot, hurry up and attack …"

Without waiting for Molière to finish shouting, King Shang Tai who was in the battle array spoke out, "General Bruce, immediately tell your soldiers to stop the battle and immediately retreat out of there. Don't test our patience!"