Chapter 1772: War Profiteering

"Although we have this fellow to show us the way, we still cannot let our guard down; there might be an ambush ahead," Qiuer said cautiously.

Qiaozhi smiled, not taking it to heart; he had already thought of a Method to solve such a problem.

"It doesn't matter; no matter if there is an ambush ahead, he will lead the way for us," Qiaozhi said with a smile, looking at the French Soldier leading the way as he spoke.

He spoke loudly on purpose, just to let him know that if he led them the wrong way, he would be the first one to suffer.

The French Soldier walked in front, with no one watching his gloomy face.

Seeing that Qiaozhi already had a Method to deal with it, Qiuer felt relieved.

Because they had the French Soldier leading the way, the journey was much safer, until nightfall.

There were thirty-one people in total here.

In the dark of night, they usually had to arrange at least three people to stand guard; one hour per shift was more than enough in terms of manpower.

But now, because there was a prisoner.

At least two people were needed to watch this prisoner, so the number of people on guard duty had to increase from three to five, with two people watching the prisoner.

This was to ensure he would not escape and tip off the French troops.

But this made manpower somewhat stretched, and Qiaozhi had to make the decision to extend the shifts to ensure the safety of the team.

No one opposed this proposal; it was only a matter of changing it to two hours.

But they had to watch this prisoner; this was the most dangerous and exhausting task.

When night fell and everyone had finished a simple dinner, the night watch for the day began.

Because no one wanted to sleep restlessly during the middle shift, waking up during that time, groggy, to stand guard for two hours before going back to sleep.

Qiaozhi and Qiuer, as the two captains, naturally took on the task of standing guard during this period.

Late that night, the moon hid behind dark clouds; although winter was almost over, the cold arrived as usual.

Qiaozhi was woken up by Qiuer, and he opened his sore eyes.

He saw Qiuer in the darkness by the faint starlight.

"Hey, Qiaozhi, we are watching that French Soldier; he hasn't fallen asleep yet."

Qiaozhi rubbed his temples, gave a soft grunt, and walked over carrying his Musket.

Qiuer held the rope tied to the prisoner, and Qiaozhi pointed the Musket at the French Soldier, though it was not loaded; he kept it in his hand, however, to guard against the prisoner doing anything to harm them.

Seeing that it was two people he was familiar with, the French Soldier sat up at once.

He looked at them.

It was as if he were staring into an abyss.

The atmosphere was somewhat eerie, but no one could endure this dead silence; from the time he was captured until now, he had seen the comrades he fought alongside fall into pools of blood.

Up to now, he was forced to lead the enemy, and he did not even know when death would come.

He understood even less why these British were still heading to the battlefield; in the current frontline war zone, the British could not hold the front line at all.

Their internal officers were all reselling military supplies.

Fear was gnawing at him.

He had to do something to ensure he would survive.

He could no longer endure it and asked, "Two captains, if I lead you away from here, can you let me go?"

Qiuer hesitated for a moment, and Qiaozhi smiled: "I never lie; if you can lead us back to the British Front, I will definitely let you go."

"After all, this is something agreed upon with you."

"This is something I have promised to the Lord."

Qiaozhi made a cross on his chest and said it solemnly.

"However, looking at you, you don't look like a pure-blooded French; you look more like an Indian."

After receiving a positive reply, the French Soldier felt much more relaxed and said: "My mother was an Indian, so I have half Indian blood in me."

"But I grew up following my father."

Qiaozhi said "oh," and examined the French Soldier again; he was a young man.

It looked like he should be at most around twenty-two years old.

"What a young lad; according to Indian customs, you should be about to get married."

The French Soldier nodded seriously: "Yes, but I am going to marry a Jewish girl; meeting her is the luck of my life."

After hearing this, Qiaozhi smiled and said: "This is truly a happy thing; if there were no war, believe me, you should be living well. When I was back home, I also often attended friends' weddings."

"And offered them a song of blessing."

Qiuer nodded: "If there were no war, I should also be holding a wedding again here with my wife."

"It's a pity, there are no 'ifs'."

Qiuer looked at the deep night sky, not knowing what he was thinking about.

Qiaozhi glanced at him, knowing that Qiuer was thinking of those bad things again; he patted Qiuer on the shoulder and said: "Don't worry, everything will pass."

"The war should be over soon, and we will return alive."

Qiuer smiled and shook his head without answering.

The French Soldier, however, said: "Respected officers, forgive my bluntness, but I don't know why you want to go to the front line; now is not a good opportunity."

"The British front line in the Ohio River Basin is collapsing; if you go there now, you will only become one of the defeated British Soldiers."

"What might greet you is even death."

Qiuer's face darkened, and he shouted coldly: "Shut up, you mixed-blood bastard! How could our British troops lose!"

Qiaozhi was stunned, and immediately saw Qiuer beside him kick out, knocking the French Soldier over.

He stopped the impulsive Qiuer and helped the French Soldier up from the ground.

"Can you tell us what happened at the front line?"

"Commander Gelin has already captured one of your French positions, but according to what you say, after taking this position, our Britain troops are still retreating; I can understand it this way, correct?"

The French Soldier rubbed the spot where he had just been kicked; he glanced at Qiuer, who was still in a rage, while Qiaozhi stood in front of him.

Only then did he say: "Although you took one of our positions, this does not hinder our offensive at all."

"That position is very important, but your Britain troops clearly do not have the sufficient ability to hold it."

"Before you arrived here, it had already fallen."

"Then why did we not receive even a shred of news?" Qiaozhi asked, filled with worry.

The French Soldier smiled: "There will be no news; this is the price we paid."

"What do you mean?" Qiaozhi was extremely confused, but inside, there was a strong feeling of unease.

"Because this is a deal between us and your current commander!"

Gelin's life or death is currently unknown, so the current Britain commander absolutely cannot be Gelin!

Qiaozhi felt as if struck by lightning, his mind in a chaotic mess; this is treason!