Chapter 1650: Murderous Intent in the Dark Night

Britain suffered a crushing defeat on the battlefield.

An attack by Cannon at such close range was unimaginably devastating to the British Soldiers.

The so-called Shield Infantry were only capable of blocking blades and spears.

Under the French Cannon, they were of no use at all; a single volley of artillery fire caused countless casualties among the British Soldiers.

Those Musket Teams lined up in rows were even less likely to survive; their lives were harvested by the shrapnel from the exploding Cannonballs.

Seeing this scene, the old general's heart pounded violently.

Terror appeared in his eyes.

Before the French troops could launch a second wave of charges, he immediately roared, "Retreat! Retreat quickly!"

The various officers and soldiers were stunned; they had only lost some Shield Infantry and Musket Teams, and their main British force hadn't even formally engaged the French troops yet.

Retreat now?

Wouldn't that suppress the soldiers' morale?

The old general immediately packed his things, repeatedly calling for his guards to take him away.

Some officers could no longer stand it; the old general was, after all, a man who had traversed the battlefield for a lifetime—how had his courage grown smaller as he aged?

He couldn't help but say, "General, it's just some Cannon, just some Musket Teams and Shield Infantry. With this little force, the French will be wiped out in an instant before our great British army!"

"Is it necessary to order a retreat?"

The old general glanced at him and said coldly, "If you want to die, don't take me with you."

"Hurry up and pack your things to retreat. We lost this battle from the very beginning; if we retreat now, there is still time!"

The old general urged his guards, then spoke again to those British officers.

"General, you are shaking the morale of the army!"

"According to British regulations, doing this will result in a court-martial!"

The old general snorted, sneering at them: "I hold the highest rank here; all orders are decided by me!"

"If you think this battle can be won, then you continue to fight."

"I am retreating, and none of you can stop me," the old general stared at them and said coldly.

The group grunted; they dared not do anything to the old general. After all, he was still the nominal commander of the army.

His authority was the greatest; if he said retreat, it was a military order.

No one should resist.

However, the troops were not all the old general's men, and they had never listened to his orders anyway.

Soon, the old general packed his things, ordered his guards to carry them, and immediately gathered men to retreat.

When he saw those Cavalry transporting the Cannon to a position very close to the British Soldiers.

He realized that there was absolutely no possibility of victory in this battle.

At such close range, the British had just finished setting up their battle formation to defend against the Cavalry.

At that exact moment, the Cannon appeared and fired immediately.

It gave the British Soldiers no time to react; the timing was handled too well.

Without any preparation, the British Soldiers became living targets.

After one volley of artillery fire, the British Soldiers were sure to have suffered heavy losses, with less than one in ten remaining.

There are no coincidences on the battlefield; the old general had fought for a lifetime and never believed in coincidences. There must be an expert directing the French troops from behind the scenes.

Otherwise, how could the French troops have adopted such tactics?

But as for who this mysterious person was, the old general knew nothing at this moment.

Because of the disagreement within the British Soldiers, it directly affected the common British soldiers.

A portion of them did not go to the battlefield and lost their fighting spirit.

They followed the old general in retreat.

As for those who stayed behind, they were the confidants of those officers.

Even if a portion of the British Soldiers withdrew, the British force still far exceeded the French troops.

After the old general withdrew, in order to stabilize the morale of the army.

A temporary command department was immediately established among the British Soldiers, and the deputy general took over command.

He directly ordered the British army to engage the French troops head-on.

Using the absolute advantage of numbers to crush the opponent.

Not long after the old general left, he heard the sounds of gunfire and artillery from the battlefield, which did not last very long.

Soon, the sounds of gunfire and the flames of war completely subsided.

From the camp came the sounds of the French soldiers cheering and jumping for joy.

The old general sighed; they were defeated, defeated as expected. He spat out a sentence: "The bridges I've crossed are more than the roads you've walked; you deserve it..."

He looked at the darkening sky and heard the faint sounds of French soldiers shouting and killing behind the troops.

He had to hurry; he had to enter the nearby mountains before dark to shake off the French pursuit behind them.

Although the old general led many British Soldiers in retreat.

He knew clearly that these people were following him only because they were afraid to fight the French.

The old general was well aware of what kind of combat effectiveness these people had, and he could only sigh helplessly at this.

These British Soldiers had already lost their fighting spirit; even if they still had weapons in their hands, they had no combat effectiveness at all.

How much time had passed, and the British soldiers had already become this pathetic.

The old general sighed; he knew what problems the troops in the British Colonial Area were now facing.

The tactical approach was outdated, the soldiers lacked fighting spirit, and many soldiers were afraid of going to the battlefield.

Although he knew what problems the troops he led had, he did not have the energy to solve them.

He was old, and this battle had already consumed a great deal of his energy.

The old general looked powerlessly at the sky; he could only leave these problems of the British Colonial Area troops to the younger generation.

Let them solve them.

Hearing the sounds of pursuit coming from behind, they grew quieter and quieter.

The taut string in the old general's heart finally loosened.

They had already shaken off the pursuit of the French and slipped into the jungle.

In the dark, moonless jungle, the French troops did not dare to launch an attack.

This deathly silent night brought a fleeting peace to the British Soldiers.

Some people leaned against withered yellow trees and fell into a deep sleep.

The old general looked around, and his heart also quietly relaxed.

He looked at the surrounding darkness; having long been aged, his ears and eyes had become somewhat dull.

He did not hear the subtle, negligible movement on the ground.

Perhaps it was the sound of the wind, perhaps it was footsteps.

No matter what it was, it no longer mattered.

The old general seemed as if he could not hear it, his eyelids drooping powerlessly.

But just at the moment he was about to close them, a flash of white suddenly appeared in the darkness, and two eyes like those of a grim reaper stared at him.

The old general was startled and was about to resist.

But the opponent was like a grim reaper, mercilessly reaping his life.

In the final moments of his life, the old general finally realized where these people had come from.

These people were all those Indians who had disappeared! The recent transcoding is severe; let us have more motivation to update faster. Please move your little hands to exit reading mode. Thank you.