Galactic Conflict: I Restore the Glory of Humanity

"My children! My brave and fearless soldiers! I, the great Louis Napoleon, have returned with glory!" Accompanied by the passionate and loud shouts, Louis stood on the top of the platform like a shining star.

He stood tall and straight, with an imposing manner. Although he was relatively short among the Primitives, at this moment he still seemed like an unshakable mountain.

The audience was filled with people, their blood boiling, and they shouted in unison, their voices deafening and resounding through the sky.

At that moment, people's long-pent-up emotions burst out like a volcanic eruption, gathering into a surging torrent that pushed the atmosphere on the scene to its climax.

For a long time, they have suffered heavy oppression and hardship, but at this moment, they finally ushered in the dawn of hope.

"Corsica! Your noble emperor has returned in triumph!" Louis shouted, waving the bicorne hat that symbolizes supreme power and majesty. He stared at the tens of thousands of Corsican people below with a firm and blazing light in his eyes.

Every time their eyes meet, they convey endless strength and faith.

"God bless Corsica! God bless our beloved Emperor Louis!" The shouts resounded through the heavens and earth, shaking people's hearts. The people expressed their support and admiration for the leader in the most sincere and warmest way.

"For freedom! For equality! For the lofty ideal of fraternity!" Everyone shouted slogans in unison, with passion and momentum.

These simple yet profound words are like torches that ignite the flame of pursuit of justice and fairness in everyone's heart.

Among the bustling crowd, two figures were particularly eye-catching.

They were Yang Cheng and Malcador. Yang Cheng quietly hid among them, watching everything happening in front of him thoughtfully, and then whispered to Malcador beside him: "It seems that this Primarch is quite outstanding. Compared with those Primarchs who couldn't even successfully conquer their own planets, he is much stronger." There was a hint of admiration in his words.

Malcador smiled and replied calmly, "If Angron were to learn of your comments, he would probably be dissatisfied and would criticize you, my lord." However, despite this, his expression still showed his recognition and affirmation of Louis' performance.

"Do we need to start preparing for contact with Louis, my lord?" Malcador stood respectfully beside Yang Cheng and asked softly.

Yang Cheng's eyes were always fixed on Louis in the distance, but his lips moved slightly, and he said slowly: "Don't be so anxious. Have the Eldar assassins I asked you to deploy been properly arranged?"

Malcador nodded hastily in response, "All is in place, my Lord."

Hearing this, Yang Cheng raised his lips slightly, revealing a barely perceptible smile, and then said: "Very good, then all we have to do next is wait for this wonderful drama to begin..."

This was Yang Cheng's carefully planned strategy. He used a sudden assassination to further deepen Louis' hatred for those alien creatures. When the time was right, he would personally show up. Although this strategy was a bit despicable, it was undeniably effective.

..............................

In the dead of night, the majestic Royal Palace of Corsica is like a sleeping beast, immersed in endless darkness.

However, beneath this quiet appearance, there is a tense and energetic atmosphere.

Teams of soldiers dressed in gorgeous uniforms and with upright postures patrolled every corner of the palace with firm and powerful steps.

Their eyes were as sharp as those of hawks, and they watched the movements around them vigilantly, as if no movement could escape their eyes.

Under the strict protection of these loyal guards, a reassuring atmosphere permeated the palace.

At this moment, King Louis was sitting in his spacious and bright study, with his back against the warm fire.

His deep and intelligent eyes stared at the latest document that had just been delivered in his hands, his expression focused and serious.

The orange-red firelight reflected on his resolute face, outlining a series of firm lines, making the young monarch look even more calm and majestic.

Beside Louis stood fifteen of his most capable marshals.

They are as indestructible as the Great Wall of Steel, and each of them exudes unparalleled momentum and strength.

They lined up neatly in three rows and stood beside Louis.

Among them, Louis-Alexandre Berthier, Joachim Murat, Bon-Adrien Moncey, and Jean-Baptiste stood in front of Louis.

The battle-hardened André Masséna, Jean-Baptiste Bernadotte, Anne Brune, Jean Lannes, and Michel Ney stood in the middle.

Last standing were Louis Nicolas Davout; Nicolas-Charles Oudinot; Louis-Gabriel Suchet; and Jozef Antonius Poniatowski.

In addition, next to these generals, there is the reserve marshal, who is called Marshal Charles by others. He is one of Louis' last trump cards and his command ability is no less than that of Louis.

The sixteen marshals were arranged in three rows in an orderly manner. They held their exquisite sabers inlaid with gems tightly in their left hands and carefully held their military caps in their right hands.

They straightened their backs, held their heads high, and looked at the great leader, Louis, in front of them with eyes of great reverence.

The whole scene was solemn and dignified, without any noise, except for the occasional crackling sound of the fire, which seemed to be paying tribute to these heroes.

"Generals! Now is the time for us to launch a desperate counterattack! We must let those insidious, cunning, and shameless coalition forces see what the real power of us Corsicans is!"

As soon as the words fell, every marshal present straightened up at the same time, with a solemn expression, and saluted in unison, and shouted in unison: "Yes! Great leader!"

After all the marshals left, an unexpected scene occurred—in that dark and deep shadow corner, dozens of figures quietly emerged like ghosts.

Looking closely, they turned out to be a group of top assassins from the mysterious Eldar. They were tall and slender, yet they contained endless power; their agile figures were perfectly hidden in the darkness, looming and elusive.

At this moment, these cold-blooded killers tightly grasped the bone-white long knives that were shining with cold light in their hands, and the sharp tips of the knives were accurately aimed at Louis who was standing next to the fire.