Chapter 977: Chapter 22 Marshal’s Justice_3
The accompanying infantry, morale surging, shouted: “The Marshal is leading the charge himself! Attack!”
Originally, the enemy’s firepower was quite fierce, and everyone advanced cautiously, using cover and alternating movements. But the moment the Marshal appeared, everyone rushed out of cover.
The seasoned veterans stayed clear-headed, shouting orders: “Throw smoke bombs! Throw them as far as you can!”
Amid the chaos, the Revenge surged forward to the statue of the Prosen Emperor.
“Turn the turret fifteen degrees to the right!” Podoliskov ordered.
The barrel barely avoided hitting the statue, as without that command, it might have skewered the statue of the Prosen Emperor like a knight’s lance.
Next, the tank’s frontal armor collided with the statue. The Rocossov II was heavier by over ten tons than the Rocossov I, but its mobility remained unaffected.
The full-speed impact of this colossal machine was terrifying.
At the moment of collision, the statue’s base shattered, and the entire statue toppled forward.
Podoliskov ducked back into the turret and shut the hatch as the shattered statue pieces hammered against the tank’s armor.
When he reopened the hatch, it took him a great effort to pry it open, only to find the Prosen Emperor’s stone head stuck on the anti-aircraft machine gun’s mount.
“Sukabule!” Podoliskov quickly threw the thing off the tank. “Bad luck!”
He then looked up, searching for the Marshal’s figure, but all he saw was smoke everywhere, making it impossible to discern anything.
Podoliskov: “Dammit, the Marshal’s gone!”
Driver: “The Marshal must’ve headed straight for the Royal Palace. I know the way—past the statue, through that gate, straight ahead, and it’s the Royal Palace.”
“Then push forward! The target is the enemy’s Royal Palace!”
The tank’s engine roared, crossing over the remaining half of the statue’s base, crashing through the Bodenburg Gate, rolling past the Parliament Building, heading straight for the Royal Palace.
————
The Prosen Emperor walked into the empty audience hall.
The Palace guards were still loyally carrying out their duties, following him into the hall and taking up defensive positions behind columns and furniture.
The Emperor ignored them, heading straight up the long staircase to sit upon the throne.
He glanced to his side—where the Empress’s seat was vacant. Originally, his elder sister would be seated there, but she had since been sent to the Empire’s southwest, and her defending forces likely had already surrendered to the Allied Forces.
Then the Emperor turned his head, looking at the slightly lower platform meant for the Prime Minister’s chair.
“Giles, sit there,” he said.
The Palace guards stared in fear at their Emperor.
But the Emperor was staring at his hallucination of Giles.
The hallucination spoke: “I’m right by your side; I’m not going anywhere.”
The Emperor nodded: “Alright, then let’s face our fate together.”
As soon as he finished speaking, an explosion occurred, blasting the hall’s main door off its hinges.
Smoke and dust instantly filled half the room, blowing toward the throne and blinding the Emperor.
He desperately rubbed his eyes, weeping profusely before he could barely open them.
Sunlight shot through the broken hole where the door once stood, glaring into the Emperor’s vision.
He raised his hand to shield his eyes, and then he saw a towering knight’s silhouette.
In that instant, the Emperor recalled the insane words whispered by the Prosen soldiers: He rides a white horse, emerging from the darkness.
Marshal Alexei Konstantinovich Rokossovsky of Ante entered the Prosen Emperor’s audience hall on horseback, tall and proud. The horse’s hooves left muddy prints one after another on the red carpet.
The white horse walked slowly yet unwaveringly, as if heralding the inevitable demise of the Prosen Empire.
The Marshal, atop the white horse, ignored the Palace guards’ aimed weapons, holding his chin high.
The guards’ officer finally reacted and shouted: “Aim!”
At that moment, a massive tank appeared behind the white horse, smashing through the walls on both sides of the door. The red flag and slogans on the tank’s exterior stung the Emperor’s eyes.
Following the tank, a swarm of soldiers clad in cloaks poured through the expanded entrance, firing as they advanced.
The tank’s machine guns opened fire, unleashing a storm of death across the audience hall.
Finally, the tank fired its main cannon, collapsing the corridor on the right side of the hall that led to the guards’ barracks. The explosion’s cascading smoke even obscured half of the Emperor’s field of vision.
But the white horse remained undisturbed.
The battle ended, and not a single soldier loyal to the Emperor remained in the audience hall.
The Emperor slowly stood: “Rokossovsky, you’ve finally come! I’m glad that you’ve ultimately accepted my challenge!”
————
Wang Zhong didn’t understand a word of what the Prosen Emperor was saying. After all, he didn’t know Prosenese.
From a vantage point overhead, it was clear the Emperor had no will to fight.
In fact, the moment Wang Zhong had entered the room, everyone there had already lost their fighting spirit upon seeing him arrive.
Thus, Wang Zhong strode in grandly.
He now felt regretful, as the language barrier prevented him from exchanging words with the Prosen Emperor.
Unexpectedly, the Emperor began speaking in Antenese.
“Rokossovsky, you’ve ultimately accepted my challenge.”
Before Wang Zhong could respond, the Prosen Emperor continued: “I have never been defeated in a duel. Today, let us meet our end together in the afterlife!”
At the moment his voice fell, the Emperor drew his gun, so fast that Wang Zhong couldn’t even see it clearly.
But Sergeant Grigori was quicker.
The Thread Cutter fired its bullet, precisely hitting the Emperor’s handgun, sending it flying and breaking the Emperor’s fingers.
The Emperor screamed in pain, clutching his injured hand.
“You’re cheating!”
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