In the drizzle, Fuxu rode on his horse, controlling the animal to walk in small steps while observing the front line through his binoculars. He pondered a question in his mind:
If reinforcements arrive and he is given command, what would he do? What would be the outcome?
The answer was clear:
He would order a counterattack because he believed that the best defense was offense.
The result would undoubtedly be a prolonged tug-of-war, with both sides continuously pouring troops into this muddy ground, ultimately leading to tens of thousands or even hundreds of thousands of casualties!
Compared to the current battle...
Fuxu suddenly felt like a child who didn't know how to fight a war.
For many years, the military theories ingrained in his mind, once solid and immovable as a rock, now seemed fragile and unstable, ready to collapse with a gentle push.
The Belgian soldiers on the front line only now comprehended the situation. They didn't cheer; each felt a lucky escape from death.
