You've been ruined by games all your life!

Chapter 52 General Pskov
Just as Harald was about to finish off Chen, two gunshots rang out simultaneously from his east and west sides.

Korchagin held a Mosin-Nagant rifle hidden under the cart, white steam slowly rising from its muzzle.

His eyes weren't golden. Korchagin was originally an ordinary person; his ancestors were serfs. He only received an education during the Federation period and became a political commissar.

His bullet failed to penetrate Harald's shoulder blade; it was too far away, and he shot it slightly off-target.

But the other bullet was different. It was "specially made" to kill Proscenium hybrids. It wasn't a rifle bullet, but rather fired from a revolver.

The bullet, engraved with alchemical patterns, traveled two hundred meters and struck Harald in the head, exploding into a spray of blood in the cold air.

"Oh, I got it."

A somewhat hoarse male voice spoke in a very calm tone, then his fingers deftly spun the revolver a few times before putting it into his deerskin holster, patting it as if to make sure it was secure.

His face was dry and flaky, as rough as if it had been sanded, and his nose was red and large, clearly indicating that he drank frequently. Coupled with his Rosa coat, anyone who saw him would say that this man was a true Rosa alcoholic.

If you ignore the dozen or so men behind him, their golden eyes shining, carrying Sevilla rifles.

"General Pskov, it's so good to see you again."

Upon entering the village, Korchagin hurried over to Pskov and extended his hand to him.

Pskov glanced at Korchagin, rubbed his dark hands together, then gripped them tightly, shook them a couple of times, and then released them, turning to Chen Lai on the ground.

"Is this another half-breed exiled by Stolt?"

As he spoke, Pskov's tone was somewhat sarcastic, and the dozen or so Rosa soldiers behind him also looked dissatisfied.

"No, no, no, he was wounded on the front lines and was sent here to recuperate, but the Prosen army is advancing too fast..."

"Hmph, if you ask me, Stolt is a tyrant!"

"What time is it now? The Prosen people are almost invading Moscow! And he's still purging the golden-eyed people. Without the hybrids, how has the army's fighting capacity collapsed?"

"They keep sending mixed-race people to the front lines to fight guerrilla warfare. Do you know how many Golden Eyes have defected from Prossen? Even someone of Vlasov's caliber has gone! They're just causing me trouble every single day!"

Pskov pulled a pipe out of his overcoat and shoved it haphazardly into his mouth. Korchagin chuckled and stepped forward to light it for him, but Pskov shooed him away like a fly.

"It has to be you, little Paul. If it were anyone else, I wouldn't even want to say a word to them."

"Yes, yes, I know how hard you've worked supporting us from the rear. It's perfectly normal to have complaints. Sometimes I don't quite understand Comrade Stolt's thoughts either."

Korchagin followed up on Pskov's words. He knew the old general well. Pskov had joined the White Army during the Civil War and later sided with the Union. He was patriotic, but his straightforward personality made him difficult to get along with.

"Ulia!"

Korchagin turned to Ulia, who was tentatively approaching, and asked her to help Chen into the house to rest. He then arranged for the villagers to collect and burn the bodies. Kashgar village was now "enemy-occupied territory," and it would be very dangerous if Prosenian corpses were discovered. After the matter was settled, he went into old Kant's house and found Pskov chatting with him. The two old men were talking animatedly about everything from "Tsar Peter the Great" to "Empress Catherine."

Given Lao Bao's level of competence, a death sentence by firing squad would be more than enough.

However, Commissar Korchagin pretended not to hear. He had worked for many years and now understood the importance of uniting all forces that could be united. Many elderly people simply could not accept the federal ideology. Should they be forced to change it in their old age?
"General Pskov, I'd like to discuss with you what to do next... Old Kant, would you please go sit down next door for a while?"

“Of course, no problem, Paul.” Old Kant tipped his hat in salute, then took his small stool and went to the next room.

"What is it?" Pskov was not happy that his conversation had been interrupted.

Korchagin sat up straight: "It's like this, the bridge over the Yanchekra River has been blown up by the Prosen, and now hundreds of thousands of soldiers are gathered at the river mouth waiting to cross. The repairs may take another three days. I would like to hear your thoughts."

Pskov frowned. "Three days? These hundreds of thousands of people haven't been taken prisoner yet?"

Korchagin choked on his words: "It can't be that bad, can it? Our most elite guards are stationed over these tens of thousands of miles, and..."

"Come on, Comrade Korchagin, you still don't have enough understanding of the Prosenians' military tactics... Sheamus called this thing 'blitzkrieg,' which I think is very apt."

“I bet you, Paul, if we can’t fix the bridge within two days, then these hundreds of thousands of people will be picked by the Prosenians like ripe fruit. The men will go to prisoner-of-war camps, and the women… well, you know.”

Pskov chuckled, but there was no smile in his eyes. As a fellow soldier, he found it hard to accept such "futile" casualties.

Korchagin was helpless; his rank was too low, and he could only watch helplessly as things unfolded on the front lines, unable to make any changes most of the time.

While the two remained silent, Ulia rushed in, her face beaming with joy.

"Comrade Korchagin, the commander has woken up!"

“Excellent! General Pskov, let’s go see this hero. His performance is entirely worthy of the Order of the Red Banner. I will definitely apply for this honor for him after the war!” Korchagin stood up.

Pskov pulled his coat tighter and stood up from his chair. He was actually quite curious about Chen Lai. If there really was such a super mixed-race person on the front line, he shouldn't be unaware of him, but he just had no recollection of him at all.

"By the way, Korchagin, do you have the special medicine sent from the rear with you?" Pskov suddenly remembered something and looked at Korchagin.

Korchagin, in a daze, suddenly clapped his hands and shouted, "I've given the medicine to Alexander! It's for our commander who just woke up, hurry, hurry, hurry!"

The two men got up and rushed out the door. Pskov suddenly had a bad feeling. The "miracle drug" that was delivered this time was said to be a new drug that had not undergone clinical trials. It was specially developed for the war by comrades from the rear science bureau.

This war not only spurred the advancement of weaponry, but also greatly promoted research on hybrid races, a fact that Pskov witnessed firsthand.

"That guy, could he have injected all the drugs into his own body? In that dangerous situation, he couldn't help but think."

(End of this chapter)