The standoff at sea continued, but it didn’t prevent the expeditionary forces already landed ashore from proceeding with their mission.

They dispersed several reconnaissance teams into the city.

Each team was led by a King’s Blade, accompanied by five armored infantry as the vanguard, followed by dozens of brown-uniformed firearms soldiers, checking each street for enemy ambushes.

The dark alleys seemed to hide a beast capable of devouring everything.

Two British soldiers walked into a rather luxurious residence.

"There’s no one in this house. The owner left in a hurry and dropped this!"

The man happily picked up a few silver coins scattered on the ground and stuffed them into his pocket.

His companion opened all the drawers in the house, trying to find some abandoned valuables: "They say Texas is a hellhole, but to me, it looks no different from a small country town back home. Are we really spending the night in this city?"

"What else? Having a ready house is better than pitching a tent in the wilderness. I’ve heard the mosquitoes in Texas can be deadly, and Lady Nightingale’s medical team didn’t come this time."

Outside the residence, the King’s Blade, who was as silent as a machine, suddenly looked towards the tower in the distance, his eyes under the helmet glowing with a red light.

In the next moment, the gun barrel on his back immediately turned and aimed, and with a gathering crimson glow, the air was instantly filled with a pungent scent unique to white crystal.

On the tower, the faces of the Wolf Race reconnaissance team changed drastically.

"Damn, they can see us from this far?"

"Jump quickly!"

At the brink of life and death, the soldiers of the Texas reconnaissance team scattered from the tower, nearly at the same time, a terrifying explosion and shockwave tossed the scattering team members into the air like bouncing balls.

The explosion sound immediately alerted the previously relaxed British soldiers.

...

Meanwhile, in the heart of New Naples.

On the rooftop of the municipal building, Losa and his group stood, watching the British soldiers emitting faint red glows as they moved through the dark streets from afar.

In his high school textbook, Losa remembered that the root cause of World War I was the unequal distribution of spoils among the imperial powers.

Texas was now the loot they sought to divide.

However, risk and opportunity have always been equal; if Texas defeated the British expeditionary force and achieved a great victory, even if the French wanted to bring Texas under their influence in the future, they would at most consider Texas a semi-protected cooperating state rather than turn it completely into a puppet, dependency, or colony.

In contrast, without such a record of achievements, even if Texas contacted the French in advance, it would only have brought another predator. 𝗳𝐫𝚎𝗲𝚠𝚎𝗯𝕟𝐨𝘃𝚎𝗹.𝗰𝗼𝗺

On the rooftop, Venezia was somewhat eager.

"I’ll go weigh the British bastards."

Venezia didn’t really have anything against the British, after all, he was a country bumpkin and hadn’t really seen British people much.

But now, in his mind, his hatred for the British ranked even higher than for the Yakxi Wolf Race.

This battle record was his most diligent effort, although his limited strength only reached the level of an Elite Centurion, making it hard for him to play a role in large-scale warfare.

"Hans will go with you, and take a Wolf Race squad with you too, just in case."

Of course, Texas wouldn’t have no response to the enemy’s landing.

But the operational intelligence was kept secret; that there are traitors in Texas is unquestionable, as it’s an immigration country, and without traitors, it wouldn’t make sense. But for such secret information about the white crystal vein to leak, it can only mean a traitor from within the Wolf Race.

Although Juliano decided to take an idealistic path, he remained quite pragmatic. The only ones with access to such secrets about the white crystal can only be from the Wolf Race, specifically the original Basilicata Wolf Race.

"Viviana, you shouldn’t fight."

"Why?"

"Your identity is too sensitive."

Viviana felt a warmth in her heart, but she shook her head, saying, "In this kind of night, I won’t let the enemy see my face."

Having joined Yesterday’s Giant Ship, I must fulfill my duties.

Besides, I’ve never liked those invasive British anyway.

Arthur felt quite troubled; he, the highest-ranking state militia officer, who could chat and laugh with the sub-leader of the Saint George’s Knight Order, now ended up

Blame those damned slaves!

If it weren’t for the great uprising of black slaves which ruined all of Louisiana, the already sparse population, after a round of massacre, exile, and capture, there’s hardly anyone left.

According to custom, his state militia troop should expand to at least ten thousand during wartime, barely befitting his title of colonel.

But now, everything is ruined.

With just these three hundred men, he couldn’t even muster some dignity in front of the homeland officers.

He originally planned to use this battle to earn himself some accolades, then use that as a springboard to break into the homeland for development.

"This war has too many headaches, I now regret not going to California with my cousin’s family. Even mining would be better than carrying a gun to fight."

"Maybe it’s not even our turn; you’ve seen the homeland folks’ equipment, those huge iron beasts, as terrifying as the werewolves are, they’re still flesh and blood."

A militia member from a cowboy background laughed, "The land in Texas is still very fertile; once the war is over, each of us can get a plantation of our own, buy some black slaves, good breeds too, and become estate owners."

"You would need to earn lots of merits for that. With this mess, the price of black slaves has gone up again. Those Portuguese traders are having the time of their lives."

A nearby militia stared wide-eyed: since black slaves revolted against their masters, shouldn’t the price have dropped?

Said like that, but plantations can’t do without the labor of black slaves. Those Mexicans are both sly and lazy, incomparable to those black slaves trained by the Portuguese.

I heard there’s a new machine developed in Yankee territory that can harvest cotton?

That thing is too expensive, and the cotton it produces is of poor quality, merchants don’t even buy it.