Chapter 136: It Turns Out It Wasn’t the Crown Prince’s Merit (Bonus for 5000 Monthly Votes)

Wang Zhong was pondering about the future when Ludmila tugged at his sleeve.

He turned his head to look at the girl, and she pouted in the direction she was looking at.

Following her gaze with curiosity, Wang Zhong then saw a short and chubby version of himself.

Overall, Aleksei Konstantinovich Rokossovsky wasn’t bad looking, mainly because he kept his body well-trained.

But the man in front of him was actually about the same height; however, due to his significantly expanded tonnage and a serious failure in managing his weight, he had a chubby appearance.

Described with high emotional intelligence,”strong and honest.”

But even with such a big difference in build, Wang Zhong still had the feeling, “My god, he looks so much like me.”

So, even without looking at the name, Wang Zhong knew this person must be a relative of his.

He glanced at the name: Pyotr Konstantinovich Rocossov, Major General, Duke Rocossov.

Based on the patronymic Konstantinovich, Wang Zhong deduced that this man shared the same father with him. It’s a tradition among the Ante Empire nobility that the first in line of succession, even without actually inheriting any land, would still be granted an honorary title.

Meaning, this could be his brother, the first in line to inherit, so he is also called the Duke—though without actual inheritance.

Pyotr looked at Wang Zhong, quickened his steps, and came over with open arms, “My dear brother! Alyosha!”

Wang Zhong was hugged tightly and nearly had his chest crushed.

Are you trying to murder your brother, fatty!

After releasing Wang Zhong, Pyotr was still very excited, his mouth trembling as he spoke—not that Wang Zhong was paying close attention, it’s just that being fat, any slight tremor was magnified through the layers of fat, immediately obvious.

Had the call to action that motivated everyone back then nothing to do with the nobility but was down to a belief in national survival?

Wang Zhong’s fondness for the citizens of Ante increased by 1,000 points.

He shook off Pyotr’s hand, “I won’t leave my troops. I will fight until Prosen is completely defeated, turning Ploseni into ruins, washing my tracks with the blood of the Plathen Emperor, and then eating pickles on his dining table.”

The dandies around obviously misunderstood Wang Zhong’s words, taking him for the typical braggart and whistled in response.

But Pyotr looked at Wang Zhong with incredulity, staring intensely, “You... what’s happened to you? No, no, for the sake of the front-line troops, you should go to the logistics department, and to manage something inconsequential, like storerooms for pickles... Oh, is that where you want to go? That can be arranged!”

Wang Zhong, “No, I will say it again, I will not leave the front line, I will not forsake the soldiers who have fought and bled with me! I will fight with them until the end when Prosen is finally defeated!”

Pyotr laughed, “Don’t be like that, look at your soldiers, they must be sick of you! Uh...”

Pyotr’s gaze swept over the soldiers of the Rocossov combat group standing in formation on the platform, his expression as if he’d seen a ghost.

At that moment, Ludmila said, “Pyotr Konstantinovich, he is no longer who he was yesterday.”

Pyotr took another look at his brother, seemingly finally sensing a vastly different aura about his kin, until he saw Bucephalus nibbling at Wang Zhong’s hair.

Bucephalus, “Neigh~~~”

Wang Zhong silently pushed the horse’s head away.

Pyotr:...

Then Pyotr decided to ignore the overly abrupt scene. He cleared his throat, “So... you’re not going to tell me that you actually commanded the troops in battle and gained their approval, are you?”

Wang Zhong, “What do you think? My dear brother!”