Chapter 815: Chapter 39: Strategy of Psychological Warfare

The "giants" wielding chainsaws, serrated shields, and carrying gun barrels on their shoulders, once entering the city, seemed to have intensified the battle, with houses exploding and flames erupting from time to time, not much different from before.

New Naples, this dead city, seemed like a devil’s lair devouring everything.

Screams, wails, artillery fire, and gunshots composed a dirge of Hell.

The British soldiers digging breastworks on the shore, occupying the tower, adjusting ship cannons aimed at the French Fleet, occasionally turned to glance back, their faces filled with worry.

They had no heart to confront the Frenchmen, almost everyone fixated on the passage leading from the port to the city.

Suddenly, the sound of panic-stricken footsteps approached gradually.

"Help! Someone, quick!"

"Ah, no!"

The piercing screams accompanied by the horrific sound of flesh being torn apart sent a chill down the spine of every British Army soldier present. Without needing an order from Colonel Scott, they instinctively raised their weapons, aiming at the mouth of the passage.

Colonel Scott swallowed hard; he was not someone who hadn’t seen the world. During his duty at the Cape Colony, he had dealt with the Zulu Black Wizards, and in his view, witchcraft or demons, a barrage of White Crystal Bombs would obliterate them all.

But he had never seen the evil that even the King’s Squad, personally led by the Iron Duke, couldn’t handle.

The next moment, a soldier covered in bloodstains ran out. When he stepped into the beam of the searchlight, the despair and panic on his excessively young face were etched into the memory of every onlooker.

Thud—

A sharp lance pierced through the soldier’s back.

These were heavy cavalry covered in frost armor and ragged cloaks, yet their mounts ran as silently as if carrying nothing but air.

They slowly emerged from the passage; the leading cavalryman used his weapon to lift the soldier’s corpse. As the searchlight swept over, it illuminated their white, vampire-like faces beneath the armor and their eyes glowing with eerie blue light.

And their mounts were stark skeletons, bare bones shining in the light.

A cold wind swept out from the passage, making everyone feel as if they had fallen into an icy cavern, causing their teeth to chatter.

"Open fire, send these bastards back to Hell!"

Even before Colonel Scott could issue the order, the overwhelming fear compelled the soldiers onshore to open fire. A barrage of bullets became a storm of metal, tearing the dozens of Mad Hunt Cavalry into shreds in an instant.

Whew—

Almost everyone breathed a sigh of relief.

Colonel Scott observed for a long time, realizing that the fragmented undead riders did not piece themselves back together, he remarked with a touch of humor, "See, I told you bullets are the best means to exorcise demons."

Unfortunately, his joke did not receive the response he hoped for from his subordinates.

The officers were still immersed in an inescapable fear.

They now believed Texas to be a dreadful devil’s den, and their expedition was not about fortune, plunder, or gaining colonies, but truly about confronting evil.

"But isn’t this the duty of the Church and the Knight Order?"

"Don’t those Gauls always pride themselves as the Eldest Daughter of the Heavenly Lord? Let them handle such matters."

The soldiers lacked the awareness for such noble ideals, coming from afar to combat evil. The fear of the unknown enemy and the uncertainty about obtaining sufficient spoils from this battle continuously lowered their morale.

The last straw that broke the camel’s back was the sound of fervent drums accompanying a group singing a hoarse song, forming a neat queue as they marched out of the passage.

"God save the King. Ever victorious, crowned with glory; beloved by the people, rejoicing in heart; governing the nation, long may the King’s reign endure."

"God save the King! Proclaim God’s might, spread heaven’s net, protect the Royal Family, annihilate enemies, purify all at once. Destroy plots, eradicate traitors, sweep away the treacherous alliance."

They held the Union Jack high, singing the tune of "God Save the Queen."

What should have been a solemn scene now appeared particularly bizarre given the context.

"Have our people returned?"

"Quick, shine the light over there!"

As the searchlight’s beam swept across, it revealed the figures dressed in blood-stained uniforms, full of wounds, with even the organs exposed—the British soldiers.

"My God, it’s Robert and his team!"

"These are a bunch of dead men!"

"The Texans are actually able to enslave the dead!"

Screams and exclamations spread like an epidemic, and when the dead soldiers marching in neat formation got closer, someone finally couldn’t hold back and opened fire.

Bang—

A bullet pierced through the eye socket of the officer leading the group. The officer, somewhat bewildered, reached up to cover the wound and asked hoarsely, "Why attack us, Colonel? We have fulfilled our duty, please send a ship to take us home."

They did not retaliate, just looked around at the familiar comrades, pleading, "Please, for the sake of us all being comrades, let us go home."

"You will end up like this in the future as well, dying on this cursed land will bring eternal suffering. Only by going home can you find relief."

Scott, the colonel, clenched his fist and blew the dead officer’s head off with a shot.

He knew very well that he couldn’t let these reanimated comrades continue to speak. Killing them, although it gave the soldiers a sense of "the rabbit dies, the fox grieves," was better than letting them approach just like that.

A succession of gunshots rang out.

One by one, comrades were shot, fell to the ground, never to rise again—they would forever be imprisoned on this land, enduring endless suffering and torment.

In fact, these undead soldiers in British Army uniforms were all creations of Prajna. Lacking story prototypes, they were very fragile, breaking upon contact, but their words were more effective than a charge by a thousand Mad Hunt Cavalry.

Many of the British soldiers’ faces were streaked with tears, some out of fear, others because they were moved by the phrase, "You will end up like this."

They clearly had a chance for redemption, yet Colonel Scott decisively abandoned it.

This meant they would encounter the same fate.

After all, even their corpses were desecrated. Dying in a foreign land, likely even their souls would have no freedom. This was far more terrifying than simple death.

Moreover, this wasn’t ignorance or superstition, but something real.

America was already full of cultists, Black Wizards, and those black slaves from Africa brought all kinds of beliefs and Evil Gods.

...

On the sea outside the port, watching this scene, the French had mixed feelings. Seeing the British getting beaten was undeniably satisfying, but their opponent was too bizarre, too evil, making even the most British-hating French soldiers feel uneasy.

Enrique, the Governor and highest commander of the detachment, felt even more conflicted.

In the original plan, they were waiting to carve up a piece of fat meat, but it suddenly grew fangs and bit the diners hard, leaving even Enrique, who advocated a tough stance against the British, somewhat at a loss.

The French Army is the best in the world, an undisputed fact, with its standing army only second to Tsarist Russia and its individual combat power far superior to it.

The British innovation in war machines is indeed impressive, but France is not at a standstill.

However, the French still recognized the strength of the British Army.

To beat the British into such a state, the Texans should not be underestimated.

Enrique felt a bit complicated; France’s plate was too large, with interests in North Africa, West Africa, Madagascar, South America, West Indies, East India, Indochina, and even parts of Spain itself. This second Sun Never Sets Empire, closely following Great Britain, still needed to maintain high shipbuilding military expenses.

But France’s resources were nowhere near those of the British, who had colonies in India and North America.

Given the strength Texas showed, if they really defeated the British, it seemed that France could give these "Devils" an opportunity for cooperation.

Trading weapons for Texas’ minerals and agricultural products, and arming this powerful dark force as a bloodletting reservoir against the British.

Thinking of this, Enrique’s mood turned excited again.

"Texans, great France is watching you, let me see your potential."

...

Dragon Flame

Looking at the wailing wounded and the charred remains everywhere,

these poor British had little real sense of how terrifying war could be, after all, they prided themselves as symbols of civilization, using the most advanced weapons.

After joining the army, they thought their enemies were just a bunch of Indians, black people, Indian Natives, who were only there to be slaughtered before them.

But when the blade turned towards themselves, their reaction was hardly better than those they considered savages.