Monk Lingqin was shocked, he found that the thieves clearly wanted to block their more than 2,000 cavalry in the center of this manor, like an isolated island, and then fire on three sides, annihilating them all!

Watching the rain of muskets and bullets coming from a wave of fierce guns, Monk Greenqin's heart was dripping blood! Most of these cavalrymen who were shot by muskets were Horqin iron cavalry, all of whom were soldiers of his golden family, who followed him from birth to death for many years, going out to suppress bandits, suppress thieves, kill Changmao, and cross the Qing Dynasty. Pen | fun | pavilion www. ｂｉｑｕｇｅ。 info didn't expect that now they will all die tragically in this small manor!

Monk Lingqin roared, arousing the fanatical fighting spirit of the cavalry, and they rushed forward one after another. But then, the scene in front of them stunned them!

Suddenly, several fire dragons erupted violently from the side, completely blocking the entire eastern passage, and the only passage that could escape to the outside was completely blocked by the flames.

It was the thieves who used the oil of fire! The water dragon sprays out the oil and causes a raging fire that blocks the way. The cavalry and war horses that were originally killed and injured in the passage were all shrouded in fire for a while, and they were set on fire one after another, especially the cavalry and war horses that had not completely died, screaming and neighing, mixed with the smell of burning hair, which was extremely tragic and made people chill.

Monk Greenqin's eyes were cracked, this damn thief used this trick again, but it was the most critical place! Monk Lingqin had long heard that before the thieves attacked Tianjin, they used the water dragon to slam the fire oil to light a sea of fire and block the tactics of the horsemen, but he didn't expect it to be so powerful!

Now there is no other way but to force out of the sea of fire and join the more than 1,000 cavalry outside the island.

But at this moment, in the east, which was originally an empty wilderness, three thousand soldiers of the captive army suddenly appeared, step by step, holding new muskets, and killed the more than 1,000 Qing cavalry outside the island.

The captured sergeants on the north and south sides took turns firing, and more artillery kept falling in the distance, especially those field mortars, and the howitzers that were fired fired did not explode, and several Qing cavalry were injured and fell to the ground.

Waiting for the more than 1,000 cavalry outside to react, they wanted to disperse the 3,000 soldiers of the captive army who surrounded them, but suddenly found that the original more than 1,000 cavalry slowly became 800, 600, and 500 people, and the 3,000 soldiers of the captivity army had already arrived, and laid down a three-stage strike dense formation, which was really good to line up all the evacuation channels, and violently fired a round of muskets, and under the smoke of gunpowder, the cavalry outside was scattered in addition to more than 700 or 800 people who were killed, and the rest of the four or five hundred people were scattered and fled in all directions.

At this time, the cavalry of the Qing army, which was besieged in the isolated island, also ventured and began to rush out.

There was a loud sound of gunfire around, and Monk Lingqin was also mixed in the middle, and Tima rushed out desperately. At this moment, he no longer had the idea of attacking and killing the thief chieftain in his heart, he just wanted to lead his soldiers to break through and instinctively survive.

Entering the flames, his beard and eyebrows began to catch fire, and he resisted the pain. Then, the horse began to neigh, and the fire on the mane made the horse uncontrollable and frantically jumped, and Monk Greenqin grabbed the saddle so hard that it did not fall off the horse.

The soldiers around him kept falling, and Monk Lingqin had no time to grieve, the only thing he could do was to rush forward. He lowered his body, and the whole person was almost lying on the back of the horse, to minimize the danger of being hit by the bullet.

The screams and the whistling explosions of the artillery were heard in their ears, for a short time, and for a long time, at last, they passed through the sea of fire, and saw two rows of thieves looming in the smoke of gunpowder less than thirty or forty paces away.

Suddenly, Monk Greenqin and a group of Qing soldiers were deflated! Rushing out of the sea of fire, in just a few dozen steps, their more than 2,000 cavalry were reduced to seven or eight hundred, and now facing the black oppression, there were at least more than 3,000 thieves, and they were all long-range muskets, and they were all long-range muskets, and they were dead.

For the first time, Monk Grinqin understood the true meaning of the phrase "doomed". His heart was full of sadness and despair, and he made a hoarse voice with his thirsty throat and shouted: "Warriors of the Horqin Grassland, follow this king to kill thieves, be loyal to the emperor, and serve the Qing Dynasty!" ”

Wearing the bright yellow armor given by the first emperor Daoguang, this is still the battle armor that was approved by the **** master Dolgon when he went south to the Central Plains, bringing together the luck and glory of the Qing Dynasty, and tightly wrapping the monk Grinqin at this moment. Outside the armor, there was a yellow coat from Xianfeng Yuci that had been scorched by the flames, and it was majestic, and the monk Lingqin held the saber obliquely and waved it, lining up the cavalry into a sharp conical battle formation, and rushing to the thief line not far away.

And guarding the side of Seng Lingqin were the deputy capital commander Deleng and the assistant leader Su Kejin. Holding a yellow flag, Su Kejin waved it in the wind, and although the battle flag was scorched in many places, it always inspired the Mongolian soldiers behind him, making them howl like wild beasts, and they waved their sabers, followed behind the monk king, and rushed towards the thieves.

The shrapnel fired by the field mortar exploded in the high-speed Qing cavalry group from time to time, and the violent explosion shot the metal fragments in the shrapnel in all directions, and the smoke of the explosion made the Qing army completely unable to see the faces of the thieves on the opposite side, only a vague figure.

And the pungent smell of gunsmoke and sulfur choked Seng Lingqin almost out of breath. From time to time, there were the cries of pain and despair of the soldiers who had fallen from their horses, and Monk Lingqin knew that the thieves were firing fiercely. There was a loud roar in his ears, and the love general on the left was shot in the forehead, screaming and falling off the horse. Monk Grinqin glanced sadly, his heart was desolate, and the death on the battlefield was the fate of these Mongolian soldiers.

A gust of wind blew, blowing away the gunsmoke, and the faces of the thieves who were only ten steps in front of them were already clearly visible. Monk Lingqin roared: "Kill! Kill it! "He took the lead, like a sharp sword, poking at the camp of thieves.

Syllable! A lead bullet struck him in the left shoulder, and the huge impact shook him violently, and he almost fell off his horse, but he resisted the severe pain, tightened the saddle, and the saber in his right hand was already raised high, and the moment he rushed into the camp, it was the moment when he harvested the head of the thief.

However, what made these Qing soldiers desperate was that in the face of their approach, the thieves did not panic at all, the musketeers in the first row took a few steps back, and the second row was revealed, but it was the spearmen. The spear in his hand, which was more than two meters long, was inserted diagonally into the ground, forming a dense forest composed of spears.

More than 100 Qing troops rushed forward with men and horses under the high-speed sprint, as if they had knocked themselves into the spears, and the musketeers hiding behind the spearmen were still firing from time to time.

Su Kejin, the leader of the yellow battle flag, was also hit by several buckshot shots and fell off his horse. The charred battle flag fell down like dry wood, and was crushed to the ground by the war horses of the monk Lingqin and a group of soldiers who were still charging next to him.

At this time, the monk Greenqin's mind was empty. He didn't look around him, but he clearly knew that the hundreds of people who were originally following behind him were now only less than two hundred, and they were still falling. Fortunately, they have already rushed into the camp of thieves.

The saber in his hand was flying, looking at a spear thief in the front, slashing over, the spear thief tilted his head and dodged a galloping knife, but Monk Lingqin pulled down, the saber flashed, a blood light, half of the spearman's shoulder was cut a long hole, with blood spurting out, throwing down the spear, screaming.

As the sprinting horse sprinted, Monk Grinqin turned his saber again, severing two wooden bars of spears that had been stabbed at him, and had reached the second row, swinging his sword at a still childish and panicked musketeer.

Bang, an oncoming shot, before enjoying the pleasure of chopping, Monk Lingqin only felt that his eyes were dark, he felt that a few small insects were drilled into his head, followed by a sharp pain in the brain, he didn't even have time to scream, he felt that his whole body had no strength, and his mind was also a short stagnation.

The moment he fell from the horse, Monk Greenqin's mind began to spin rapidly, perhaps because of the return to the light, he seemed to have returned to the Horqin grassland, and turned back into the poor shepherd boy who was the original, herding horses and sheep on the prairie, singing happily.

If he could start his life all over again, he would not want to be a Mongolian prince full of glory. Perhaps, he shouldn't have left his hometown in the first place and came to the capital to participate in the selection of the heir of the king of Sotnamu Dobujai.

In his mind, at the last moment of his life, he was eternally fixed on a picture of the grassland: a round of sunset, sprinkled with a soft sunset, shining on the flowery grassland, but on that grassland, there was not a simple shepherd child.