On the evening of March 31, 1770, on the outskirts of Ajaccio, the Wehrmacht was stationed.

"Alas, with such an ingredient, the strength of the bullet is not enough at all."

Major Trefali scratched his head in anguish, and kept stabbing a small piece of cork in his hand with his dagger.

After Bonifacio's triumph, Major Trefali also received more feedback from the precision shooters about the actual use of rifles, so he was mostly busy with the design of bullets and firearms these days.

Even the wooden house where Major Trefali lived was moved into countless raw parts, tools and instruments, all of which were piled up on the ground in a mess, everywhere, and there was not even a place to stay.

"Major, excuse me."

There was a knock at the door, followed by a loud report from a young soldier.

This voice was also familiar to Major Trefarly, and was his personal bodyguard, who acted more as a secretary to these officers in addition to simple security duties.

"Come in."

Major Trevary beckoned without raising his head, continuing to examine the cork in his hand.

"Yes."

The guard answered and pushed the door open, carefully tiptoeing through the scattered parts, and made a detour before he came to Major Trifali.

"Major, this is your letter today."

The guard said, placing a few envelopes on the table, and then waited in place for Major Trefali's order.

Major Trefali sighed, put the cork aside in his hand, and glanced impatiently at the envelopes.

As a well-known firearms maker, Major Trefarli often received letters from wealthy merchants asking him to customize flashy pistols as a way to show his power or wealth.

"And those letters of entrustment? When I've said that, throw these letters aside, and don't bother me. ”

Major Trefali said with some displeasure.

The guard scratched his head in shame, but did not speak, and it was evident that he had received a lot of favors from the client when he handed over the letter.

"By the way, Major, there is a letter in it that is not commissioned, or I can't understand the content, but the envelope does say that it was sent to you."

Seeing that Major Trefali's face was becoming more and more difficult to look at, the guards quickly changed the subject and shoved one of the shabby and somewhat yellowed envelopes into Major Trevary's hand.

There was almost nothing on the cover, except for a short line of small print that stated that it was addressed to Major Trefali of the Wehrmacht.

Major Trefali opened the envelope with discomprehension, took out the letter and spread it out on the table.

I saw that on this huge piece of letterhead, there was no greeting, no conclusion, no salutation and payment, and there was only one word on the whole blank paper:

Begin.

"Start?"

Major Trevally scratched at his hair twice, and couldn't see any clue at all.

Just when Major Trevary was distraught and thought it was a prank by some ill-tempered child, an unobtrusive pattern in the lower right corner of the letter immediately caught his attention.

"It's...!"

Major Trifali stared at the pattern for two seconds, only to see that the top half of the pattern was a pointed cone, and the bottom half was a rectangle with a semicircle removed.

For this figure, Major Trefali, who dealt with it every day, instantly recognized it:

"Isn't this the shape of the Mini bomb, and you know the structure of the Mini bomb... That's right, this must be Lieutenant Colonel Bonaparte. ”

It dawned on Major Trevally that it was a letter from Lawrence.

"In that case... So what this beginning means, that is..."

Knowing that it was Lawrence's letter, Major Trevley nervously and excitedly glanced at the flowered word 'start' in the center of the letter.

Thinking of the plan Lawrence had given them when they returned to Ajaccio that day, Major Trefali immediately understood that the sky in Corsica was going to change from now on.

"Uh... Major? ”

The guard stood a little embarrassed, watching Major Trefali suddenly stunned at the almost blank letter, and couldn't help but say aloud:

"You... Are you overworked these days? ”

Major Trefarli ignored the guards, but closed his eyes vigorously to calm his emotions, and then said to the guards in a deep voice:

"Guard, go to Lieutenant Seth at once, and tell him to come to me now."

"Ah, yes!"

Although the guards didn't know what was going on, when they saw Major Triphali looking so serious, they hurriedly saluted, and ran straight to the door, regardless of whether they would step on any parts.

......

Meanwhile, to the south of Corsica, Bonifacio.

Because Colonel Silva, the former supreme commander of the Southern Army, was very unfortunate to die on the battlefield and sacrificed his life for his country, Lawrence inquired among the soldiers before leaving, and voluntarily appointed an officer with both ability and integrity to take over as the commander of the Southern Army.

Of course, Governor Pauly naturally did not know, nor would he accept, that Lawrence had taken it upon himself to appoint a corps commander, so after learning of Colonel Silva's death, he hastened to send a loyal colonel as the official commander.

And at this very moment, inside Bonifacio's camp.

The officer appointed by Lawrence sat by the campfire, like the rest of the soldiers, except that he did not join in the small talk of the soldiers, but read a letter from Ajaccio with a serious expression.

"Hey, sir, what are you looking at?"

A soldier noticed the officer's serious expression and couldn't help but ask.

"Was it from Ajaccio's relatives?" A soldier saw the place where the envelope was sent and asked with concern.

The officer shook his head silently, without explaining the contents of the letter, and still swept the contents of the letter intently.

The soldiers looked at each other in some bewilderment, wondering what this usually cheerful and enthusiastic officer was looking at, making him so serious.

After a few moments, the officer finally finished reading the entire letter, but his face was still not relaxed, and after a moment of hesitation, he simply threw the entire letter into the campfire next to him and reduced it to ashes.

"Sir, who sent it?"

Seeing this, the soldiers became even more curious, and they all came up to ask.

The officer stood up, patted the dust on his body, and said in a deep voice:

"It was sent by Lord Bonaparte."

The soldiers suddenly closed their mouths in surprise and discussed in a loud voice:

"Lord Bonaparte?!"

"The commander who fought with us to win the Battle of Bonifacio!"

"That's right, he was the one who captured General Bellan two years ago."

"Sir, what did you say from Lord Bonaparte?"

......

Faced with the tide of questions, the officer could only signal everyone to be silent, and then said:

"Lord Bonaparte hopes that we, the Army of the South, will march at once to Ajaccio and take his command."

As soon as the words fell, the soldiers were stunned for a few seconds, everyone knew that Lawrence was really a cross-level dispatch, and once he was held accountable by General Pauly, neither side could escape responsibility.

Seeing that everyone was stunned, the officer then said:

"I also knew that this was a major violation of the command, but I nevertheless decided to accept the dispatch of Monsieur Bonaparte, because on that day, on the plain outside Bonifacio, I saw the scene of Monsieur Bonaparte discarding his mount and marching with us under artillery fire."

The officer's words immediately evoked memories of the battle of Bonifacio that day, and they thought of the young Bonaparte, of his shouting of questions about himself before the battle, of his march on the battlefield under artillery fire, and of the sincere oath of mourning for the heroic soul after the battle.

"Maybe there will never be such a chief in my life." This is what many soldiers thought after the war.

Now, however, there is an opportunity in front of them.

Whether to go north to Ajaccio to follow in the footsteps of Lord Bonaparte, or to stay in Bonifacio, where he will rust and rot for the rest of his life, many people already have the answer in their hearts.

"March to Ajaccio!"

"March to Ajaccio!"

"March to Ajaccio!"

The excited shouts of the soldiers instantly spread throughout Bonifacio.

And just a moment later, only a shouting from outside the camp was heard, which suddenly interrupted the shouting of the soldiers.

"Hey! You pigs! What to do! What a noise! ”

Outside the camp, the colonel who had taken over as commander rushed in angrily, pointing at the soldiers and scolding them.

And the officer of Fang Cai walked up to the colonel without changing his face, and said in a loud voice:

"We're getting ready to march, and we're going to Ajaccio."

"March?! Ridiculous! Whose order! When the colonel heard this, his face immediately turned pale, and he asked angrily.

"The order of Lord Bonaparte." The officer replied neither humbly nor arrogantly.

"Bonaparte? Lawrence Bonaparte? He's all been removed! What orders does he have the right to give? ”

The colonel pointed to the officer's nose and shouted:

"You are General Poly's soldiers, except for General Poly's orders, no one can do it!"

"No, we trust Master Bonaparte more than we fought side by side." The officer stood tall in front of the colonel, not giving a single step.

"You! You traitor! ”

The colonel's face was swollen, and he was speechless, so he directly drew the saber at his waist and stabbed at the officer.

And the officer's reaction was even faster, and in an instant, he also pulled out the saber and held it in his hand, parryed the colonel's stabbing, and then turned his wrist with a slight force, and directly shook the colonel's saber out of his hand.

"You..."

Under the Colonel's shocked gaze, the officer did not hesitate, and stepped forward, the tip of the knife moving forward with his body, and sank into the colonel's heart.

"Wow..."

The soldiers watched silently as the corpse of the colonel fell, as their titular supreme commander died before their eyes.

The officer raised his sword, which was still dripping blood, and did not look at the colonel, who was still breathing at his feet, knowing that there was no turning back, and that he had no choice but to trust Master Bonaparte.

"Soldiers, march to Ajaccio!"