Shimazu Daro's outburst was something that no one expected, and the comrades-in-arms who had just fought side by side to control the Ryukyu monarchs and ministers turned into murderous demons in a blink of an eye, and they were merciless.

Don't look at the French soldiers are all veterans, but after all, they are soldiers in the era of hot weapons, and they only have a woolen military uniform on their bodies, and their defense against the sword is basically zero.

The more than one-meter-long Taidao inherits the craftsmanship of the Tang knife, and the end is extremely sharp, and even the head and shoulder can be cut off with a knife.

The French counterattack was unusually weak, because the enemy and the enemy were too close, the long rifle could not be brushed at all, even if the French troops on the periphery could make one or two stabs, but the excellent armor of the Japanese samurai could also remove most of the strength, unless the particularly unlucky was stabbed in the gap in the armor and injured, the rest simply ignored the bayonet attack.

What's worse is that because Molière's order was to catch alive, in order to prevent stray bullets from accidentally injuring the Ryukyu monarchs, these soldiers did not have any bullets in their chambers.

This is a completely one-sided slaughter, even if the firearm is advanced, it is useless to play without him, in this small and dense environment, only cold weapons can exert the greatest power.

"Why? You lowly savage warriors, have I given you less? Why did you betray me—" Moli was sweating profusely, and his long knife pierced his thigh, and the pain of the wound was so severe that he couldn't move at all.

What was even more painful was the doubt in his heart, he couldn't figure out what he had done wrong.

Shimazu Dairo flickered through the crowd like a ghost with a rib in his hand, and he had received the most rigorous samurai training since he was a child, and he could kill people without a sword.

"Die, white-skinned ghost..."The sharp ribs cut through the air like lightning, slitting the soldier's throat, and the bloody arrow spurted out more than a meter away.

Shimazu Daro's demon face is now covered with blood, which makes the terrifying atmosphere on the whole person even more agile and real.

There was no obstacle in front of him, and he stepped forward and grabbed the handle of the Taidao nailed to his thigh, twisting his wrist slightly.

"Ahh Damn barbarians...... Molière watched as the sharp blade swirled inside his muscles, the pain almost knocking him unconscious.

"I'm not a barbarian...... Compared to what you have done, I can already be called a saint with high morals..."Shimazu Dairo said in strange accentuated English through the gritting of his back molars, and then he jerked his wrist hard, and the knife brought out a bloody arrow from Molière's flesh.

"Ahh

"Listen, French people, you can compete with me to see if your bullets are faster or my knives ......are faster," he was saying, when suddenly a shout from behind him, "Be careful, sir..."

The sneak attackers were Major General Bruce and the two French soldiers beside him, and when Shimazu Dairo tortured Molière with a knife, Major General Bruce's eyes moved, and the two soldiers understood that they would pick up their bayonets and stab the samurai's face pocket.

As for Bruce himself, he pulled out his pistol from his waist like a lightning bolt, and his eyes were locked on Shimazu Dairo's temple.

It's a pity that he underestimated the training that the samurai had received since childhood, hand-to-hand combat, and chaotic combat in complex environments, which were all compulsory courses for Japanese samurai, and Bruce's every move could not escape the eyes of the samurai who covered Shimazu Dairo.

"Kill...", with a loud roar, the sharp sword slashed the wrists of the two soldiers, and the rifle fell to the ground before it could be stabbed, and when the sword was used, the figure of the samurai had already rushed to the muzzle of Bruce's gun.

With a muffled snap, the revolver fired, and the bullet hit the armor on the samurai's chest, only to hear a muffled pop, the bullet pierced through the armor and drilled into the chest, and the bloody arrow flew out.

"Be careful...... Your Excellency" The wounded samurai did not retreat, but advanced, his limbs spread out like a bear hug to block all the angles of the bullets, and pressed towards Bruce step by step.

Bang Bang Bang ...... Three more shots, the crazy samurai tiger body shook three times, but still did not retreat, he roared and rushed forward, actually saving the pale General Bruce.

"Maniac...... You madman let go of me......" The blood-stained demon face was so close that it was almost kissing his face, and the pungent smell of blood made Bruce's back sour.

"Get out of the ......" Bruce desperately pulled the trigger, and all the bullets in the revolver were empty, but the ghost warrior still held him tightly, but red blood flowed from the sharp mouth of the demon's face.

The scene was so terrifying that not only Bruce was frightened, but also the French soldiers around him, who suddenly felt that the dye-covered tribal warriors in Black Africa were as childish as three-year-old children compared to the Japanese samurai.

On Sen Leng's iron armor, there are traces of knives and spears, the red eyes in the demon-like face pocket are turning, and the sharp mouth is still spitting blood, this is not a person at all.

"Someone...... Help me..."At the general's roar, the hands of countless soldiers deep under the viewing platform dragged the poor general and the terrifying samurai down.

With a thud, Major General Bruce's back hit the ground, and the dying samurai pressed hard against him. The French army next to him dragged desperately, desperately lifted, but they couldn't separate these two people at all, and the dying warrior was like falling in love with Bruce deeply, and he didn't let go until he died.

Puff puff...... The French army, who had nothing to do, could only pick up the bayonet and stab it down, specifically looking for a gap in the armor to stab in, and after more than ten swords, the warrior was considered dead.

Since ancient times, they have been afraid of being stunned, those who are stunned are afraid of not wanting to die, and those who are afraid of not wanting to die? Of course, they are afraid of crazy people. Today, these crazy Japanese samurai have taught all the French army what it means to disregard life.

Not only do they disregard the lives of their enemies, they don't even count their own lives.

Shimazu Dairo's hand was very steady, the knife was on Molière's neck, his eyes were calmly staring at the dead warrior, and his mouth even recited a very famous Japanese death poem.

"There will be light at the end of the hell of bliss, and the clouds and mist will be scattered, and there will be only a bright moon in my heart...... Death is not terrible, you have become a god, don't go far for the heroic spirit, please wish me a long time of martial arts..."

Molière didn't understand what Shimazu was saying, but he knew that he was meeting a pervert today, and he also knew that he couldn't reason with such a madman.

"Give up... You will not succeed, there are only a hundred of you...... Look at it, the third wave of the landing force has arrived......"

Shimazu Daro raised his eyes, and sure enough, more than a dozen small boats came to the sea, and a new wave of French reinforcements was about to land.

"Go, stand up, you're my hostage......" Shimazu Dairo dragged Molière like a dead dog to the Ryukyu monarchy, and the hundred samurai had already hollowed out all the French troops on the viewing platform, and the floor was full of corpses.

The samurai were shoulders and backs, and the French army outside them formed a large circle, and they protected King Chantai and his ministers as they began to retreat northwest.

"Get out of the way...... Fuck off... If you want your envoy's life, get out of the way...... Roll ......" There was a scolding in the circle.

Molière's life was really valuable, and when the three knives were on his neck, all the French soldiers discouraged the idea of attacking and saving people, especially Bruce's face was now white with fright.

"Don't hurt the envoy...... We can negotiate, we can negotiate...... "This scolding mother in the general's heart, damn Molière, if you stay on the battleship honestly, let me carry out the plan, won't you?"

I have to come in person, I have to come to death in person, I really respond to the Chinese saying 'good words are hard to persuade damn ghosts' I am so unlucky, why did I go out with you on this mission.

But he scolded in his heart, but the general also knew that the relationship between Molière and Napoleon III was extraordinary, and there were even some unclean rumors in the Parisian aristocratic circles.

Bruce could not verify the truth of these rumors, but he knew that Molière was the only one who dared to persuade the Emperor to be angry when he was angry, and even heard that Molière dared to suppress the orders conveyed by His Majesty when he was angry.

This kind of close minister around the emperor is not something that an officer stationed abroad like him can offend, today he can die but Molière can die.

The scene was even more eerie, with the samurai forming a circle to protect the Ryukyu monarchs and slowly moving towards Shuri Castle to the northeast. Outside this circle were nearly three hundred French troops in red, and they formed a larger circle and followed slowly.

The rifle bayonets of the French army all rushed inward, shining like a jungle, and the swords in the hands of the Shimazu samurai rushed outward, blood dripping from the edge of the blade.

A small circle, there is also a big circle outside, the two circles move forward cautiously, they stared at each other and no one dared to move.

In the outlying cities, thousands of French soldiers formed a larger front to kill people and set fires, and around the city, countless brave soldiers of the New Army and the Ryukyus rushed towards the enemy like moths to a fire.

The chaos had already drunk everyone involved, especially Molière, who even felt like he was in a dream from which he would never wake up.

"Why don't you attack...... Attack, attack the enemy......" Molière struggled desperately, the skin on his neck was cut by the knife, and he didn't feel any pain.

Bruce ...... Are you going to betray France? You damn idiot, attack ......"

Before Molière, the madman, could finish shouting, King Chantai in the battle array spoke, "General Bruce, immediately let your soldiers stop fighting, withdraw from Naha immediately, and don't test our patience..."

This book was first published from 17K Novel Network, the first time to see the genuine content!R405