Cannon Fire Arc

Chapter 960: Chapter 14: Disintegration_2

Brigadier: “Look, the orders have arrived.”

Filippov saluted the Brigadier: “Sorry to have delayed you all. Wishing you great success.”

After speaking, he stepped aside.

Brigadier: “You’re just fulfilling your duty.”

With that, the Brigadier jumped into the Jeep, and it astonishingly led the way toward Plowsonia.

Filippov immediately felt a strange sense of familiarity with this act.

The commander of a medium tank shouted at the Brigadier’s Jeep: “General! You shouldn’t be the first to go! Damn it! Start Manny quickly, we have to catch up to the General!”

The tank roared to life and chased after their one-armed General.

Filippov watched the mighty convoy of tanks surge toward Plowsonia.

Robert Capa seemed to have lost interest in the Maus tanks, instead snapping away at the advancing Ante Armored Troops.

Mike, the journalist, approached Filippov and asked, “Aren’t you going to report this great news to the Marshal?”

Filippov slapped his thigh: “Ah, right! I completely forgot!”

————

Ante Forward Command Headquarters, 66 kilometers from Plowsonia’s city center.

Pavlov: “Your headquarters is now just thirty kilometers away from the front line. If this continues, we’ll push ahead of Eugene the General’s headquarters! Advancing like this forces senior command forward. If senior officers suffer casualties, you’ll be held accountable!”

Wang Zhong: “But you must also see, by pushing forward, I’ve maintained the troops’ high morale. Morale is extremely important right now!”

Nelly: “Would you like some milk in your coffee?”

Wang Zhong: “Less milk, less sugar. Thanks.”

Nelly placed the prepared coffee in front of Wang Zhong.

Wang Zhong: “What’s with such a beautiful cup?”

Nelly: “The local civilians gave it to us in gratitude.”

Wang Zhong picked up the cup to examine it: “No looting involved? Are you sure it’s not an antique? If it’s an antique, it should be returned to our Prosen colleagues—it’s a treasure of their country.”

Nelly: “I’ll make sure to find out.”

Just then, Wang Zhong’s new Deputy Officer rushed into the room: “Marshal, the troops have reported capturing a 188-ton giant tank!”

“88 tons isn’t exactly enormous.” Popov remarked.

“It’s 188 tons!”

Popov exclaimed in shock: “What? A tank so heavy didn’t sink into the ground?”

“It didn’t!”

Wang Zhong downed his coffee in one gulp and stood up: “Alright, I need to see this personally.”

“You’re not going anywhere!” Pavlov raised his voice, “Send a tractor to tow the tank back, then take your time inspecting it!”

Wang Zhong could only sit down again.

Nelly: “Another cup of coffee?”

“No, forget it.” Wang Zhong scratched his neck.

————

November 24th, Plowsonia’s city center, Royal Palace bunker.

The Plathen Emperor, in high spirits after breakfast, entered his office and glanced at the map on his desk.

He then asked the duty staff officer with confusion: “When was this map updated?”

“Just now,” answered the staff officer.

Emperor: “Why is the frontline advancing toward us instead? Where is my armored counterattack? The Maus tank counteroffensive? Shouldn’t it have crushed the enemy’s spearhead and reclaimed the towns occupied by the enemy?”

As his words fell, other generals filed into the room, led by Celtic Marshal, who clearly heard the Emperor’s complaints in full. He replied: “The Maus tanks were destroyed by enemy infantry in close-range explosions.”

“What?” the Emperor cried out, “What was the accompanying infantry doing? Just watching the Empire’s precious decisive weapon get destroyed by the enemy?”

Celtic Marshal: “The accompanying infantry was suppressed by enemy artillery fire and couldn’t keep up with the tanks.”

Emperor: “Then why didn’t the tanks stop to wait for the infantry until the artillery fire was suppressed?”

“According to the report from the 336th Armored Grenadier Corps, they didn’t. They charged toward the enemy-occupied village under artillery fire.”

At this point, someone murmured, “At least their courage is commendable.”

The temperature in the room instantly dropped to freezing. Everyone shut their mouths, not daring to speak further.

The Emperor was silent for a few seconds before confirming, “So, the Empire Army’s latest technology, our decisive weapon, is now the enemy’s trophy?”

Celtic Marshal: “It’s become Rocossov’s trophy.”

The Emperor sat there, momentarily seeming petrified.

Finally, he said, “Rocossov doesn’t need this one piece of loot—I suspect he can’t even find room for all his trophies.”

“We acted too hastily. We should’ve waited for Steiner to organize the counterattack forces and then deployed the Maus tanks together for the counteroffensive.”

As he said this, the Emperor kept his head lowered. After finishing, he looked up and asked slightly cheerfully:

“Any news from the Atomic Research Institute? When can we conduct a test explosion? Is it feasible to bring the prototype to the battlefield and detonate it directly?”

The several scientists from the Military Science Academy exchanged uncertain looks.

Finally, the Academy’s Director nervously reported: “We currently haven’t accumulated enough weapon-grade fissile material to reach critical mass. In fact, our scientists suggest that the data left by Dr. Heisenberg may be incorrect—achieving chain reactions requires much more critical material than indicated, meaning we may never be able to produce an atom bomb.”

The Emperor was silent for a few seconds before asking the Royal Steward: “Have the new typist candidates arrived? I need a typist.”

The previous typist had succumbed to the pressure and shot himself.

Steward: “They have arrived, Your Majesty. You may select one at any time.”

The Emperor nodded, stood, clasped his hands behind his back, and trembled slightly. It was unclear whether this was a side effect of consuming too many Awakening Agents or merely psychological.

————

Ante Army Psychological Operations Headquarters, 56 kilometers from Plowsonia’s city center.

Vasily put down the latest leaflet: “No, this isn’t effective anymore. The enemy is likely tired of seeing leaflets—now is the time to adopt more aggressive measures.

“Didn’t Stass say someone would be sent over? Why haven’t they arrived yet?”

“Were you waiting for us?” A voice, thickly accented with Antenese, floated over from the direction of the door.

Vasily looked over and saw a group of men dressed in black cleric’s robes.

“Why are you wearing cleric’s robes? We’ve seized plenty of uniforms—pick something appropriate to wear. Also, we’ve prepared identification documents. We’ve made countless breaches in the enemy’s defenses, and there are enemys’ deserters everywhere. If you have fake IDs, you won’t arouse suspicion.”

Vasily stood up and approached the Stass group.

“These are all locals from Plowsonia.” The Bishop who led the group spoke, “No one knows our homeland better than us. We’ll definitely be able to blend in among the enemy.”

Vasily: “That’s ideal, then. Your mission is to sow feelings of war-weariness—get soldiers to desert and go home if you can. If not, incite rebellion on the battlefield. Even if those efforts fail, spreading rumors about Rocossov will still be highly beneficial!”

Bishop: “We’ll complete the assignment and dismantle the enemy’s defense entirely.”

Vasily: “This is to help your homeland rise from the ashes as quickly as possible. That song—the Marshal personally composed the melody and lyrics, and I arranged the music. Are you familiar with it? You can try teaching it to Prosen soldiers at their clandestine gatherings.”

“Remember, even if you’re discovered, you still have value because it will make the Prosens—sorry, the pseudo-imperial believers—paranoid about deserters and accelerate their collapse.”

Bishop: “We will redeem those deceived by the pseudo-emperor’s lies, guiding them toward the path Saint Andrew has illuminated.”

Vasily: “Absolutely. Now quickly change clothes, take your IDs, and our small units will help you disperse to infiltrate the enemy-occupied zone. From there, it’s all up to you!”

Stass’s clerics shouted in unison: “For the glory of Saint Andrew, long live the Living Saint!”