Arc of Fire

Chapter 632: Chapter 74 The Title Worth Five Dollars

After handing over the starving and freezing Prosen Army to General Winter, Wang Zhong, with a small detachment, continued to race toward the Sixth Army Group Corps Command.

On the way, they encountered the Prosens’ air defense position.

The trees surrounding the position had been chopped down, leaving the position completely exposed on the vast snowy plain, making it highly visible, so the tank crews spotted the 88 guns early on and were extremely nervous.

From an overhead view, Wang Zhong ensured safety, so he calmly sat on the tank, pacifying the others, “Don’t worry, the Prosens are already scared to death by the Red Flag.”

In reality, the cold had kept them inside; the whole position was empty. Wang Zhong switched to the overhead view to find everyone hiding in the only wooden hut, huddled around a stove.

But that didn’t matter!

The tank continued straight to the air defense position. Only then did the Prosens reluctantly open the door of the hut to come out.

The first to come out, a Prosen officer, was stunned the moment he saw the Red Flag. The soldiers following him immediately knelt and raised their hands in surrender upon seeing the Red Flag.

Wang Zhong turned back and yelled to the vehicles behind, “Tell them we are not here to accept their surrender. Just tell them to crank the anti-aircraft guns up towards the sky, and they can go back inside to warm up.”

The translator immediately complied.

The lead officer responded with a lengthy statement, which the translator shouted to Wang Zhong, “He says the guns are frozen solid and can’t be moved at all.”

What a scene, wasn’t this the same scenario we’d seen during last year’s counterattack?

Wang Zhong, “Then have them find a way to block something in front of the cannon, at least to show the receiving troops that they have no will to fight.”

With that, he didn’t wait for the translation, directly patting the top of the tank, “Let’s go, keep moving, to the headquarters.”

The tank restarted, passing by the intact 88 and 20mm anti-aircraft guns.

After passing the air defense position, the Sixth Army Group Headquarters was not far ahead. Soon, in the overhead view, Wang Zhong saw a large group of neutrally marked Prosens, all without the will to fight and waiting to surrender.

It was probably because they were all about to surrender that the headquarters’ manor had no sentries. Even when the rumbling of tanks were heard, the sentry only ran to the window of the house to look outside.

The barrier at the entrance of the headquarters was already raised, and, unsurprisingly, looked frozen.

The tank just drove straight into the headquarters courtyard, and still, no one came out from inside.

In the overhead view of the headquarters, there were just three Prosens, one of whom was sitting behind the office desk. He could see his name was William Frederick, his rank, Marshal. ṟÃƝÓ𐌱ƐＳ

Wang Zhong jumped down from the tank, walking boldly toward the main gate, with Grigori, the sergeant, and two Federation journalists quickly following him, while everyone else reacted sluggishly.

Entering the headquarters, Wang Zhong encountered the first living person—a private, curled up inside the gatehouse, trembling with a blanket wrapped around him.

Wang Zhong, “Why aren’t you by the fire?”

After Mike translated, the soldier replied, “The commander isn’t warming by the fire either.”

Because your commander was prepared to die for his sins, using his own sacrifice to protect his family, and possibly his subordinates’ families as well.

Wang Zhong didn’t say these things but instead told the people behind him, “Give him a coat.”

Thus, Grigori took off his own coat and draped it over the private, while also taking away the private’s gun.

Little Griff asked Grigori, “Aren’t you cold, sergeant?”

Grigori, “The coat makes it hard to move, it’s actually better off. It prevents the enemy from playing tricks.”

The Antean coat was indeed heavy and stiff, not very conducive to movement. The Antean Army had a custom of removing their coats before a charge—first, to ease movement, and second, if they sacrificed themselves, the coats could be worn by others—supplying these were not as simple as other types of clothing.

Wang Zhong bid farewell to the first living Prosen and strode forward. He soon encountered the second living person in front of the commander’s office door.

He asked, “Are you the marshal’s deputy officer? Your rank seems a bit low, and why don’t I see your adjutant’s sash?”

In the Prosen military rank system, deputy officers had a special decorative sash, the officers’ sashes were golden, and the marshal’s deputy had a golden buckle on the golden sash.

After Mike translated, the Prosens answered, “I’m not a deputy officer; I just volunteered to stay behind to take care of the marshal’s body. The deputy officer and the delegation have all left.”

Wang Zhong raised an eyebrow. Normally, a deputy officer was the most trusted person of a general, like Yakov.

He empathized for a moment, thinking that if faced with such circumstances, Yakov would definitely stay to the end.

It seemed the Prosen military was indeed at the point where it would collapse completely.

Served them right!

Wang Zhong kicked open the door of the commander’s office and charged in with a fierce presence.

Marshal Frederick was sitting behind the desk, legs crossed and smoking, with the Prosen military flag and the Imperial flag behind him.

Wang Zhong, “A commander of a defeated army, yet still so full of airs.”

Mike translated, “Understand your place as the defeated; stand up for me.”

At this moment, Ante’s translator hurried into the room and heard Mike’s translator frowning deeply.

Marshal Frederick slowly stood up and straightened his clothes, “I thought you were a soldier with a sense of honor.”

Mike, “I thought you would have better taste, not like a rustic peasant.”

Wang Zhong glanced at Mike, already instinctively feeling that he was playing with journalism, and said, “Don’t translate, let my own translator do it.”

After finishing speaking, he looked at the Marshal again, “I came to your Headquarters alone according to your request to accept your surrender and I have given you the honor you requested. Now let’s speed this up.”

This time, the translator translated everything accurately, without errors.

Marshal Frederick, “Of course, of course. What do you plan to do? According to ancient customs, I should hand over my sword to you. Officers in the Empire of Fusang still wear swords, but we have discarded such obsolete things.

"This is my service pistol, and all the bullets have been removed.”

After saying this, Marshal Frederick moved from behind the desk, came in front of Wang Zhong, and presented the service pistol with both hands.

Photographers hurried to take pictures.

Wang Zhong also took the pistol with both hands but immediately handed it to little Karlov who had entered the room, “This is your reward, Karlov, and later I will have the Front Army Headquarters issue a certificate proving it was the Prosen Marshal’s service pistol.”

Little Karlov beamed with joy, “Really? Thank you, General!”

Marshal Frederick’s face tensed, “What does this mean?”

Wang Zhong, “This little hero killed at least five Prosen soldiers and buried many booby traps in your control area. Remember, it wasn’t me who defeated you, it was the heroic city of Abawahan that defeated you, it was the heroic people of Ante who defeated you! I am just a part of the Antean people.”

Marshal Frederick smiled, “The victor is always right, but personally, I quite like your speech, even though I know it’s common rhetoric of the Secular faction.”

Wang Zhong, “Taking it as mere rhetoric is the reason for your failure.”

"Perhaps,” Marshal Frederick calmly responded, “What else should I do?”

Wang Zhong, “I will take your Marshal Scepter; this scepter will be displayed as an important trophy in Yeburg, just like you displayed my Red Flag in Plowsonia. I will eventually get back my Red Flag.”

Marshal Frederick, “Wasn’t that a fake flag? There are gunpowder burns near the bullet holes, obviously shot at close range to the flag, the Headquarters were fake, weren’t they?”

Wang Zhong, “You figured that out and still sent the flag to the rear?”

"Yes, I knew from the start, it was to get me to stay and give you time to counterattack,” Marshal Frederick shrugged.

Wang Zhong, “Then why did you still

Frederick, “If I didn’t report the flag as captured, the Imperial Ministry would soon come after me. Knowing it was a plot, I had no choice but to go forward into it.

"I must admit, it was a brilliant strategy, perfectly playing our glory-seeking Emperor.”

Because he had surrendered, he could freely smear the Emperor now.

Suddenly, Frederick thought of something and asked Wang Zhong, “Off the record question, did you manage to gather such a large force so quickly because of a special relationship with His Majesty the Tsar?”

Wang Zhong, “I don’t have a special relationship with His Majesty; I was entrusted by my close friend to take care of her, that friend who died in Argesukov. One day, I will go to visit his grave, one day.”

For him, and for the father of this timeline.

Wang Zhong’s expression was stern, his eyes filled with a murderous aura.

Marshal Frederick watched Wang Zhong intently for a long while and said, “I wish you success, future Marshal.”

"Thank you.”

At this time, Mike couldn’t hold back anymore, “Would you two drink the toast soon? My partner is getting impatient.”

Wang Zhong, “Alright, the current Marshal, we have a propaganda task next. We need to drink a toast like captains in the era of sailing warships after a battle is over. Do you grant me this honor?”

"Of course, I would be very pleased.”

Wang Zhong snapped his fingers, and the glasses and wine were brought over.

He and Marshal Frederick each took a glass, clinked them together, and then exchanged drinks.

Mike’s partner happily took the photo.

Mike, “I’ve thought about it, the article with the picture will be called ‘Past Marshal and Future Marshal.'”

Wang Zhong, “That works.”

Frederick looked back and forth between Wang Zhong and Mike with a puzzled face, then the translator helpfully translated the recent dialogue between the two.

Frederick, “That’s not very good, it should be called ‘Provisional Marshal and Future Marshal,’ that’s more accurate.”

Mike, “Great! I’ll take that title, and when the article is published, I’ll pay you five dolls, Marshal.”

After thinking for a moment, he added, “I’ll pay you five dolls now.”

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