In this service, Andrew did not spend a single shot or an ammunition, and without losing one person, he sent a total of 70,000 Spanish troops to surrender before him.

On the plain grassland, among the more than 100,000 troops on both sides, in front of the hills made of countless artillery, rifles and sabers, Andrew accepted the celebration of the audience on the viewing platform like a victorious gladiator; it was like a proud lion patrolling his trophy, and behind him were countless roaring lions. The extremely fanatical shouts made the prisoners on the horse scared, and the Spaniards all lowered their heads, which was that they did not want the winner to see their shame, helplessness, and a little anger. Andrew didn't care about looking at the group of poor people, he was just enjoying happiness, joy, and all the beautiful things that the winner could enjoy.

The significance of victory in a brilliant battle is not overstated no matter what words are used to exaggerate. "Great", "Glorious" or "magnificent" or something else. Perhaps borrowing a comment from a historian can better illustrate the problem:

“…

A series of victories from the Ass Pass to the Battle of Manresa, in just over ten days, the 50,000 Invincible Legion commanded by Andrew annihilated or captured nearly 200,000 Spanish regular troops at an extremely weak cost. This was an unparalleled great victory, and even the proud achievements made by Alexander, the genius Hanbani, the great Caesar and others were nothing more than that...

Since then, in the northeast of Spain, there is no longer a built-in defense in the Catalonian region. Juan VI's army has suffered a devastating blow. During the French's future arrival in Madrid, hundreds of cities of all sizes have descended in the wind...

The entire Spanish Kingdom was like a beauties lying on the grass by a stunning dress. She closed her eyes slightly, gently added red lips, opened her already wet legs, eagerly looking forward to Andrew's wanton ravage..."

In fact, scholars' comments are too exaggerated. The results on the battlefield certainly made the Spaniards lose the courage to resist, and the madness from the Barcelona mob made the nobles and rich people even more frightened and frightened. In order to avoid the catastrophe, almost everyone was shameless and threw themselves into the arms of the French, using their wealth and interests to seek the protection of Andrew's demons, who had been cursed countless times before.

...

Barcelona is a beautiful city, bordering the Mediterranean Sea, and the whole city is located in a narrow area between two hills. It became the capital of the Kingdom of Catalonia in the fifth to seventh century AD. It was conquered by the Arabs in the eighth century AD and named Marcaluna, which is the origin of its current name. In the ninth century AD, the city was named Earl Territory and was named "Earl City". At the beginning of the ninth century AD, Bacheng had become an important port and commercial city in the Mediterranean.

In Andrew's previous memory, Barcelona is synonymous with Spain. It was not only the successful hosting of the Modern Olympics in 1992, but also the Barcelona team played for Ronaldo. In the 18th century, Barcelona was a symbol of wealth. As Spain's largest seaport and the second largest city in the country with a population of more than 100,000, making the city a place where European wealthy businessmen gather for centuries.

The glorious old royal palace with golden walls, the towering Montec castle by the sea, and the majestic cathedral that combines Roman style and Gothic architecture... All of these tell the prosperity of it. However, in the day and night of July 1794, all the glory of the past was completely looted by the mobs' "spontaneous nature". This city, once praised as the "Crown of the Mediterranean" and "the most brilliant pearl of the Iberis Peninsula" has almost become a desolate fishing village...

On the morning of July 15, when Commander Andrew played the last wonderful movement of the brilliant battle, General Dawu's 9,000 troops had successfully conquered the Fortress of Badarona and arrived at the city of Barcelona. Following the commander's instructions, Dawu's army only surrounded the city that symbolized wealth, without launching a strong attack, or accepting surrender from the city.

At this time, the besieged city of Barcelona had lost its order and was in chaos. The streets and alleys were filled with a large number of fleeing people. They carried their backpacks, pulled their little ones, drove their carriages or hiked on foot, like headless flies, running around in panic and aimless manner. But these were the actions of the nobles and the rich. The poor people of Barcelona stood at the door of the low wooden house, gestured all kinds of vulgar gestures, and gloatedly mocked the fleeing people.

But they had no way to go, and the whole city was surrounded by tightly. The French outside the city used the excuse that there were countless thugs who did not abide by the law in the city and emphasized that they would not allow one person and one horse to escape from Barcelona before the investigation of all the mobs. Faced with the threat of slightly shaking muzzles and bayonets, everyone had to flee to the seaside to squeeze into a sea boat and leave this beautiful city that they once lingered. But when they arrived at the seaside, there was no ship, even a lonely boat, which was the Jews hidden in the city spent a lot of money to acquire all the hulls floating on the sea and sailed them to the fishing village controlled by the French.

The rich people who were helpless either sat on the ground and cried bitterly in the vast sea; or returned to the outside of the city and continued to try the patience of the French. It was not until a rogue of guns rang out and dozens of people fell down in front, and everyone retreated one after another. At this time, everyone seemed to not understand why the French were trapped to death. They returned to the lonely city with their fear and confusion. In the noisy city, many people found a secluded church to tell God about their efforts, fear and misfortune.

Not all the rich were stranded in Barcelona, ​​at least Andrew's allies, Jews who had learned the information in advance, and the liberal nobles who were inclined to the French Revolution, and the lucky ones who had always maintained close contact with Andrew, were on the list that General Dawu wanted to protect. Under the guidance of the guides, teams of French soldiers, disguised astray, rushed to the home address of the characters on the list, and expressed their intentions in kindness, and began to help them escape from Barcelona, ​​while the refugees who tried to follow them were all ruthlessly sniped by French soldiers.

A group of nobles of all sizes and big and small who were forced to return to the city were gathering at Viscount Leon's home, urgently discussing countermeasures, saying that they were discussing the fact that they were helpless and just venting their complaints in their hearts and making hysterical resentment.

...

"Damn Jews, they bought all the ships and left us, but ran to the French to seek credit. One day, I must report to His Majesty the King and hang all the Jews!" A young nobleman shouted and shouted, "There are also liberal nobles and wealthy merchants who interact with the French on weekdays. They have disappeared, and I believe they will run out of the city and get the protection of the French. This is all your mistake. The despicable and shameless Catalans have capitalized the French. I must..."

The young man should indeed be angry. He was originally staying well in Madrid, but he responded to the call of the conservative nobles. As a member of the logistics supply officer, he followed the royal garrison cavalry of the Brisbane General to the Northeast front to recover the lost territory. He thought of Barcelona making a fortune, but he did not see the money, which made him trapped in an isolated city, and life was worse than death.

The young nobles' scolding resonated with the people from other provinces, who condemned the incompetent, cowards and surrendered to the enemy's faction. This also led to the extreme disgust of local nobles. Before the French arrived or the mob arrived, the nobles began to rebel and attacked each other.

"The shameless Madrid nobles are you incompetent and mentally retarded commander. The commander of Brisbane ruined Barcelona. What qualifications do you have to shout and be arrogant here?"

"Damn Madrid bastard, come here, come and fight me like a noble!"

...

The nobles were divided into two camps, scolding and criticizing each other, and the fire became stronger and stronger. Some people had already taken out their guns or drew their swords, eager to try to meet them. They had completely forgotten the predicament they were in, the Frenchman who were eyeing outside the city, and the mob anger that was about to bring. The melee between the nobles was about to break out.

"Enough, stop me! Damn it, this place is still the home of Spanish nobles, not the round gladiator arena." The master's voice echoed in the room, not loud, but everyone stopped moving. The nobles stared at each other in dissatisfaction, and then put down the weapons in their hands. The two factions that had already been in contact were separated, and they once again clearly formed different factions.

"The problem now is not quarrels or complaints, but the top priority in solving the problem of burning eyebrows, which is how to get us out of Barcelona safely. If you have any good suggestions, just talk about it!" Viscount Leon continued, his tone slightly relaxed.

He looked around at the more than 30 Spanish nobles in front of him, hoping to get one or two of them, but the master was disappointed. In his sad eyes, the old and young nobles who had previously inspired each other were silent and silent. Obviously, Viscount Leon's words finally pulled them into the cruel reality and could not escape from the damn Barcelona. While saving their lives, there were also a large amount of property, land, deeds, etc. beside him.

"Let's say it soon, are we going to die here?" Viscount Leon urged everyone again, but forgot that being a master should think of a way for the guests.

"However, we surrender to the French, whose commander declared that they would protect all Spaniards from illegal violations!" a voice from the corner said timidly.

The suggestion of the corner was approved by many people, but it was poured with a large scoop of cold water by the nobles from Madrid. He said coldly to the local nobles: "Is that so? Damn surrender, Juan VI will hang you! Besides, the French have long rejected our surrender book unless we voluntarily give up all our property, women, deeds and land rights."

"Yes! Surrender is OK, but I will never hand over the property and land deeds!"

"Never! Unless they step over my body."

"Resolutely not!"

...

The wealthy mistresses abandoned their previous good attention and opposed it in unison. One or two nobles indignantly wanted to find out the guys in the corner and drag them out to criticize and fight.

After repeated persuasion by the master, the chaotic scene was controlled. Another bold nobleman made a suggestion: "Then let us arm ourselves and protect our interests from infringement!"

"Okay, I agree!"

"God praises you, count me!"

"I'll count it, I'll send out 10 servants with guns!"

...

This suggestion received enthusiastic response from many left-behind nobles, who were planning to protect their property and women had all their interests.

But what they didn't know was that, at the same time, in another central square of the city, Torrence and his companions were gathering hands. The aristocratic Avenger, Torrence, under the suggestion of Andrew, formed a poor armed force among the inescapable crowd. They used the simple weapons provided by the French and rushed to the area where all the rich gathered without any training.

Usually after the French army conquered the town, it was their turn to plunder wealth, slaughter the nobles, burn land deeds, etc., and use the countless jewelry they had snatched to continue to exchange for the French ammunition and food, preparing for the next violent scene. They were like evil dogs raised by Andrew and the bloodthirsty devil accomplices, obeying any orders of their master without reservation, biting their Spanish compatriots like grinning, bringing back valuable wealth to their master, but they exchanged for meager food.

Now, with the acquiesce of the French army, Torrence and their companions crossed the defense line and brought several trucks of cold weapons from outside the city, from sickles, axes, long forks to bayonets, spears, and thick subway hammers. On one hand, they were hyping up to the ragged poor families watching, to use blood and violence to relieve the oppression of countless pains on the heads of Barcelona, ​​which was a resentment accumulated over centuries; on the other hand, dozens of team members were distributing various weapons to the poor around them, encouraging the poor to pick them up and kill all the nobles, as well as their children.

“…

The poor people of Barcelona, ​​the day of your revenge has finally come. Look at your hard work day and night, only the coarse cloth covered with patches and patches, and even their wives and children cannot be raised; think of the nobles who have been fed for nothing, they wear gorgeous clothes and dominate our land and property, and humiliate our wives and daughters with the so-called **.

...

Please hold the bayonets and spears in your hands tightly and rush into the nobles' manors, so that the superiors who are usually arrogant and dominate our lives will taste our power, and let the resentment of hundreds of years be vented in the burning anger.

...

What are you waiting for? Are you waiting for the nobles to arm themselves and kill you one by one? The hatred of the poor in Spain requires our own hands to repay, without utilizing others' hands.

...

Come on, follow me and rush!"

Torrance's speechless noisy immediately attracted everyone's response. Everyone grabbed a handful of iron tools and followed the leader to the neighborhood where the nobles gathered. In just over ten minutes, a team of hundreds of people gathered into a mighty army. Their blushed faces were ferocious, shouting the slogan "Kill the nobles", holding the blood-stained weapon in their hands, and following the strange flags of tattered clothes held by the front row. Looking from afar, their ugly faces seemed to grow horns, and rushed to every noble family in the neighborhood.

The nobles who had previously vowed to resist armed and armed, when they heard the poor and rebelled, they left their masters and ran back to their homes, and ordered the guards to quickly close and block the door and prevent the rioters from entering. They knelt down in front of the statue of God with their wives and daughters, and children, and kept sliding the cross, repenting piously, hoping that the merciful God could help them escape this disaster.

But God seemed to be asleep, or was busy with too much work, and had no time to worry about the prayers of the nobles of Barcelona. Not long after, the chaotic roar of the mob sounded outside the door.

"Smash the door open!"

"Kill the nobles!"

"Brothers in the hospital guard come out and cheer with us!"

...

This noisy noise constantly impacted the eardrums of the nobles and their families. They gave up their useless prayers, and everyone snuggled together to feel the last time they had with their families.

The mobs outside the house were obviously dissatisfied with the attitude of the nobles and continued to stir up in less than a minute. Facing the closed door, they either bumped with their bodies, chopped with an axe, or climbed over the wall with a ladder. After a row of guns from the servants, several poor people fell from the wall and fell on the hard stones, struggling to die with difficulty. But the tragic death of their companions aroused the blood of the mobs. They continued to build the ladder, and the closed door was finally knocked open. Before they could clear the obstacles at the door, everyone staggered and rushed up, tilted towards the weak guards.

Faced with the surging mobs, more than a dozen servants threw down their weapons, knelt on the stone slab and begged, hoping that the people in front of them could let their lives go. But they couldn't wait for them to say the second sentence. Countless axes, sickles, and spears were greeted by them, and their soft bodies were immediately put into dozens of holes. After clearing the lackeys in the outer courtyard, it was then the nobles in the house...

The target of the hundreds of people led by Torrent was his great enemy, Viscount Leon, who forced his daughter. After more than 20 casualties, the mob killed all the guard dogs. Torrent and others finally broke into the noble's inner hall. There, Viscount Leon was holding his wife tightly and his 15-year-old daughter, looking at the mobs rushing in front of him in horror.

The three nobles surrounded by hundreds of thugs were trembling and trembling. Viscount Leon remembered to say something with his chest up, but he did not dare. Even if he couldn't even say something begging, he continued to lower his head and still hugged his wife and daughter tightly.

"Master Viscount Leon, do you still remember me?" A familiar voice sounded in Leon's ear. He looked up slightly, but it was Torrence's bloodshot eyes and indescribable demonic face.

"You, you, you are Torrence." Viscount Leon recognized the demon in front of him, and at the same time he also understood what kind of misfortune he was about to face.

"Yes, it's me! The poor farmer of Viscount Leon, Torrence. It was Satan who sent me to avenge my daughter Aisin. Viscount Leon, have you heard Aisin's cry? Oh, of course you won't hear it, because you have heard too much, too much, and the shouts of countless girls you have played with have numb you. It doesn't matter, before I send you to hell, I will let you hear your daughter's cry, and hear how her cry is different from other girls..."

Torrence whispered in Viscount Leon's ear like a devil's death talisman. Until he mentioned his daughter, Viscount Leon immediately woke up, grabbed the corner of Torrence's clothes with both hands, and begged with mercy:

"Don't, please don't hurt my family. They are innocent. Please let them go. I will give you everything, including my life, family wealth, and land deeds, as long as you don't hurt my family."

"It's too late, Lord Viscount, are the people who endure pain in hell waiting for this moment?" Torrence ignored the noble's begging for mercy. He ordered several mobs to tie Viscount Leon to a chair. In order to prevent him from committing suicide, his mouth was stuffed with ragged cotton cloth, and he used a match-swap to support the noble's eyelids. Then, Torrence pulled out the noble's 15-year-old daughter from Viscount Leon's wife's arms, threw her to the ground, and while dragging her pants off, he also pulled off the girl's clothes. After a nervous work, the girl on the ground screamed in pain because her lower body burst.

"What a wonderful moan!" Torrence supported himself, while admiring his masterpiece, and casually looked at Viscount Leon, who had nowhere to be stated 3 meters away, and continued to do what men loved the most; while on the other side, other mobs were also queuing up, waiting excitedly to play with Viscount Leon's wife...

In Barcelona, ​​July 15th is undoubtedly the day for all nobles. Thousands of nobles, together with their families, were killed and corpsed on the streets. The most tragic thing is that the female members of them are even more inhuman torture. Countless mobs take turns to press on their once noble bodies. While the women are struggling desperately, the poor are enjoying unprecedented happiness.
Chapter completed!