Cannon Fire Arc

Chapter 978: Chapter 22 Marshal’s Justice_4

Wang Zhong: “I said it before, I will not duel with a despicable, shameless bastard. No, you lack that qualification. You can only face judgment.”

The Emperor glared at Wang Zhong angrily: “You…”

Wang Zhong dismounted his horse, opened the holster gifted to him by Yegorov, and drew out the pistol within.

He didn’t notice Vasily climbing up onto the tank and whispering a few words to Podoliskov.

In the next moment, the loudspeaker aboard Revenge for the Heroic Brother began playing The Holy War.

Wang Zhong halted his strides toward the Emperor, turned back, and said: “Enough! Vasily, the music fitting for this moment has yet to be composed.”

Vasily: “Huh? This one doesn’t work?”

Wang Zhong: “No, this song depicts a great nation’s uprising. But me? Right now, I seek personal revenge.”

Vasily hurriedly gestured to stop, and the music abruptly ceased.

Wang Zhong, holding the gun, removed the magazine and extracted the first bullet.

“Because of you, nearly all members of the regiment I once commanded are dead.”

The second bullet was removed and tossed onto the ground.

“Because of you, the first crew I commanded has all perished. The mother of my gunner, Aunt Alexeyevna, has only one son who survived the war!”

The Plathen Emperor’s eyes widened, staring behind Wang Zhong as though he saw some terrifying apparition.

Wang Zhong pulled out the third bullet and cast it to the ground.

“Because of you, over a thousand student soldiers, only a handful remain alive!”

The fourth bullet dropped to the ground.

“Because of you, the first division I commanded has only a few stragglers who escaped to Shepetovka! And likewise, because of you, Orachi’s civilians were slaughtered to the last!”

The fifth bullet fell to the ground.

“Because of you, little Griff has forever lost his childhood! The swings in the alley will never be used again!”

The sixth bullet hit the ground and was immediately stomped on by Wang Zhong.

“Because of you, I will never see those benefactors who pulled me out from under the tank!”

The seventh bullet fell.

“Because of you, countless children from Melania met horrifying deaths in the streets.”

The final bullet bounced off the ground, issuing a crisp sound.

“Because of you, the children of Prosen must march into war, facing gruesome slaughter!”

Wang Zhong had walked up to the Emperor now. With every step forward, the Emperor clawed back with both hands and feet, the resolute martyrdom from earlier no longer visible on his face.

He looked at Wang Zhong in total terror, then at the thing behind him.

Wang Zhong retrieved the bullet he’d obtained from Helman.

“Because of you, I’ve lost my father, my eldest brother, my closest friend, and my most trusted deputy officer…”

Vasily: “Huh? Ah, my bad, don’t look at me! I’ll shut up!”

Wang Zhong redirected his gaze back at the Emperor, loading Helman’s bullet into the magazine and inserting it into the pistol.

He chambered the round, pushing the bullet of vengeance into the barrel.

Then, he slowly raised the pistol, the muzzle shifting from the Emperor’s groin upward until it stopped at his forehead.

The Emperor’s expression, twisted grotesquely from absolute fear, was now unrecognizable.

In that instant, Wang Zhong suddenly thought of his grandfather back on Earth.

His grandfather, while performing the Beijing opera “Intelligent Capture of Weihu Mountain,” would sing the phrase “swear to bury the bandit leader in the mountain” from the “Chuan Linhai” section, emphasizing the words “bury” with a venomous, bloodthirsty tone as if he truly meant to entomb some hateful soul.

Now, Wang Zhong understood.

Bury! Them!

What he didn’t realize was that his current expression mirrored that of the hard-eyed protagonist burying his enemy in revolutionary model operas, indistinguishable from Li Xiangyang seeking vengeance for Little Bao in “Plain Guerrilla.”

Wang Zhong: “I represent all those you have invaded and harmed, and I sentence you to justice on the spot!”

In that moment, the Emperor cried out: “What about procedural justice? Using vigilante violence like this, you still call yourselves champions of justice?”

Wang Zhong: “Saint Andrew will handle your trial, but what I believe to be justice is sending you straight to meet him!”

With that, he pulled the trigger.

The bullet of vengeance struck the Emperor’s forehead, pierced through the back of his skull, and left a gaping, bowl-sized wound.

The brain that masterminded the invasion of all Europa was reduced to a pool of brain matter, splattered across his throne.

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