Arc of Fire

When Wang Zhong emerged from underground, a whole company of soldiers was assembling, and they all froze at his appearance.

The Military Chaplain was in the midst of giving a motivational speech but stopped short upon seeing Wang Zhong.

Wang Zhong headed straight for the platform from which the Chaplain was speaking, making a polite gesture to invite the man down off it before he himself climbed up.

It was called a platform, but it was actually just several ammunition crates put together and covered with a couple of wooden planks.

Wang Zhong swept his gaze over the entire company and said, "I don’t know which unit you belong to, but the Front Army’s Chief of Staff must have ordered that all units capable of being on the frontline to join the fight. You may be cooks, you may be mechanics; this doesn’t matter.

"At this moment, you all have but one identity: Antean Warriors, my beloved Davarishes. I will join you in launching a counterattack against the Prosens."

An NCO stepped forward and shouted loudly, "You can’t go! Leave it to us!"

Wang Zhong smiled, "Don’t worry. I’ve got a much tougher life than you all. The Grim Reaper is an old acquaintance of mine, and he has failed several times to take me down; he will continue to face defeat with me. Hand me the submachine gun."

The NCO immediately handed his service weapon to Wang Zhong.

Wang Zhong took the submachine gun, expertly checked the ammunition and the chamber, and finally cocked the weapon.

At that moment, there was a whistling sound in the sky, coming clearly from across the river and falling towards the city.

Wang Zhong shouted, "Here come the artillery’s smoke bombs! Everybody, on my command, turn right~! Double time, march!"

The company moved out in unison, advancing at a run.

Wang Zhong stepped down from the platform and ran forward with the company.

The soldiers all saw it in their eyes, their expressions changing from initial surprise to fervor.

Shells kept falling, and smoke even drifted between the buildings with the wind, spreading over the Tsar Boulevard, which was already blocked by tank wrecks.

Pozharsky Street had become engulfed in smoke. As the company ran past the last defensive line at the crossroads, the soldiers jokingly said, "Why are you hoisting the Red Flag? Didn’t hear that the General’s Guards Division was nearby?"

People generally referred to the Guard First Red Flag Mechanized Infantry Division as "the General’s Guards Division."

Wang Zhong stopped and said to the jesters, "Because I am here."

The soldier who spoke widened his eyes in shock, quickly stood up, and saluted, "General!"

Wang Zhong said, "Call your battalion commander over here."

The battalion commander was already running over, "General!"

Wang Zhong ordered, "Leave those handling the heavy weapons, the rest join the counterattack."

The battalion commander echoed, "Yes! Except for those operating heavy weapons, everyone else joins the counterattack!"

Wang Zhong didn’t wait to see how the order was carried out. He just shouldered the submachine gun, crossed over the defensive line, and rushed into the smoke. ＲΆ𐌽ȱꞖʧ

Nikolai, carrying the Red Flag, followed behind him. As they plunged into the smoke, he glanced back at the people on the defensive line.

The soldiers who had spoken earlier exchanged a look with their comrades, then, yelling loudly, vaulted over the sandbag breastworks and, weapons in hand, charged into the smoke.

Meanwhile, the news that "the General is leading the charge" spread through the entire frontline like the wind, and along with it came the order, "All but the heavy weapon operators to join the counterattack!"

At first, the "Hurrah" sounds were sparse, like the flickering of a small flame, but in the blink of an eye, the whole city was shouting: Hurrah!

Someone could be heard shouting loudly, "Forward, Davarishes!"

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The Prosen battle group commander initially thought that the Antean artillery barrage was meant to blow away both the friendly and enemy troops together.

When the streets were shrouded in smoke, he suddenly realized that something was amiss.

Rocossov’s first battle had been using smoke cover for an infantry charge into hand-to-hand combat. He was particularly adept at exploiting the advantages of elite troops in close quarters combat.

Sure enough, Rocossov had left his elite Guards by his side, now planning to repeat his old trick!

The deafening "Hurrah" cries came piercing through the smoke.

Hoffman said, "Rocossov surely doesn’t know that we have already developed tactics specifically to counter his strategy."

He picked up the radio handset and ordered through the wireless, "All retreat behind the Flamethrower Tanks, and Flamethrower Tanks, create a firewall in front of the troops!"

"Roger!"

As Hoffman set down the handset, the foremost Flamethrower Tank had already opened fire.

Flames shot into the midst of the smoke, and the high temperature generated winds that dispersed part of the smoke.

More Flamethrower Tanks fired, engulfing the entire street in a sea of flames.

The deafening "Hurrah" also reached very close by.

Hoffman smiled, "Stop in the face of this sea of fire! Even the deafening ’Hurrah’ will be destroyed by the fierce flames!"

As he began to laugh, others started to laugh too, the entire Prosen line echoing with laughter, as though laughing loud enough could drown out the deafening "Hurrah."

The next moment, a row of people engulfed in flames emerged from the smoke!

The blaze ignited their thick military garments, consuming their hair, and even scorching their faces.

Yet they still shouted "Hurrah" as they fired their weapons, charging toward Hoffman.

Bullets hit Hoffman’s tank, likely inaccurate because the shooters were engulfed in flames, so despite numerous shots fired, none hit Hoffman.

However, the sheer shock made this experienced Junker officer shrink back into the tank, revealing only the part above his eyes, watching in horror at this group of fiery juggernauts.

Other Prosen Soldiers were equally stunned; they had never seen such steely combat will, nor imagined they would encounter such a scene.

The smiles froze on their faces, and even as Papasha’s bullets took the lives of their comrades, no one thought to fire back.

The elite soldiers of the Empire of Prosen were now completely bewildered.

They just stared, wide-eyed as the Ante Warriors charged at them, throwing open their arms to embrace them.

As soon as an embrace was secured, the fire would come raging across.

The Ante Warriors turned the flames consuming them into weapons.

Screams suddenly filled the entire front line.

Screams of the Prosens.

Morale virtually collapsed in that instant; all the Prosens turned and ran, abandoning the tanks and armored vehicles that depended on their cover.

The tank operators maintained relative calm, thinking to open fire to block the assault.

But smoke obscured their field of fire.

More Anteans charged over, hurling incendiary bottles onto the cooling grates of the tanks.

Some Anteans rushed to the tanks, climbed aboard, lifted the hatches, and fired inside.

Bullets shot into the bodies of the tanks, ricocheting repeatedly, and soon there were no living souls inside the vehicles.

The morale of the Prosen tankers also collapsed, they began to reverse at full speed, inadvertently crushing the retreating Prosen warriors who had managed to keep their fighting spirit alive.

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Other Prosen tanks, in blind panic, reversed into their own armored vehicles while retreating; their tracks were damaged upon contact and got stuck.

No Prosens could make a full escape amidst such chaos.

When Wang Zhong saw the flamethrower tanks open fire, he immediately pulled back the people nearby, instructing them to slow down, yet at that moment, he could not stop the momentum of the charge.

Therefore, he could only watch helplessly as his warriors charged toward the enemy through the inferno.

From his vantage point, he clearly witnessed the last glorious moments of his warriors’ lives.

At such a moment, this fake Antean had a song from his homeland that echoed in his mind:

Heroes leap from the trenches,

A bolt of lightning cleaves the long sky, the long sky.

Alone they stand as the earth sinks, with only hands to support the falling sky.

Feet blazing through raging fire, their bodies agleam with rainbows!

How could this song be so fitting!

Wang Zhong quickened his pace; he had to personally kill some of those damned Prosen devils, or else he wouldn’t be able to express the passionate fervor in his heart.

But ahead of him, the red dots were extinguishing like a receding tide, one after another.

A closer look revealed not every enemy was killed; the fight had just left all the enemies, who had now knelt down and surrendered their weapons.

Wang Zhong charged for a while and finally came upon several living Prosenian soldiers, but none of them were highlighted in red.

The moment they saw Wang Zhong, they knelt down, raising the submachine guns in their hands, babbling something.

Wang Zhong, frustrated, kicked one of them, "Damn it, why surrender so quickly!"

Grigori raced over and kicked away the submachine gun that had fallen to the ground.

Yakov also emerged from the smoke and said, "They’ve surrendered! General, this is a lieutenant; maybe we can get some information out of him!"

The flag-bearer Nikolai and a radio operator, who had appeared from nowhere, also arrived.

The radio operator, seeing Wang Zhong, was stunned, "Huh? I thought I was charging with our battalion commander, where is he?"

Wang Zhong replied, "Now you’re with me. Give me the headset."

The radio operator immediately passed the handset to Wang Zhong—the Federation-produced high-power radio set had a telephone-like handset.

"Hello, Pavlov, the counterattack is going very well..."

Just then, a Prosen interrupted the frequency, chattering away in their language.

Wang Zhong tapped Yakov on the shoulder, "Listen and find out what they’re saying."

After listening for a few seconds, Yakov’s expression changed dramatically, "The Prosens are calling for an artillery strike! They say Rocossov has committed elite forces to counterattack!"

At that moment, howling sounds came from the sky, clearly not from Antean artillery fire.

Wang Zhong immediately lay flat on the ground in an artillery defensive position.

Grigori rushed over, pulled Wang Zhong up, and dragged him beside the remnants of a tank, "Get under!"

Wang Zhong crawled under the tank, still maintaining his defensive posture. Grigori quickly followed.

The shells began to fall, but for the moment, they hadn’t exploded near where Wang Zhong and his men were.

From their trajectory, it could be deduced that the shells were landing on the heads of the fleeing Prosen forces.

Under the tank, Wang Zhong shouted to Yakov, "Stop listening to the enemy’s communications, get over here!"

Yakov finally put down the headset and ran with the radio operator toward another tank wreck.

At that point, shells landed one after another around Wang Zhong, the familiar earth-shaking sensation arriving.

For a moment, Wang Zhong even felt that there was no need for a countercharge; artillery alone could finish off the enemy.

The negative pressure from the artillery barrage was extremely uncomfortable for Wang Zhong’s ears, and his head buzzed.

After an unknown amount of time, the shelling finally ceased.

Wang Zhong could no longer hear anything except for tinnitus, but he could tell from the stillness of the ground that the shelling was over.

Grigori climbed out first and turned to pull Wang Zhong out.

The enemy’s shelling had dispersed the smoke, clearing the view.

Wang Zhong saw a black cat crawl out from under the tank wreckage, standing on the rubble-strewn street watching him.

Grigori cursed, "At a time like this, seeing a black cat is not a good omen! Scram!"

The black cat meowed once, leaped onto the tank wreckage, then sprang high onto the second floor of a nearby building and quickly disappeared.

Wang Zhong’s gaze followed the black cat and eventually turned upward to the sky.

Another flock of cranes flew across the sky.

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