Too Much Money Is Also a Kind of Trouble

Just as Austria was preparing to flip the table, the situation in Egypt also underwent earth-shaking changes.

No matter how Britain and Austria held them back, Mahdi's rebel army still failed to hold out against the French, who had gone all out. Their battlefield record was simply too miserable to look at.

If the Eighth Division had not sabotaged everything in sight during its retreat and even blocked up the Nile River, increasing the logistical burden on the French army, the French would have long since stormed the rebels' old nest—Sudan.

At Eighth Division headquarters, Falkenhayn hurried in. "Colonel, something terrible has happened.

"We've just received word that Mahdi died last night. The cause of death is still unclear, but it is suspected to have been related to an infected wound."

To survive on the battlefield, one needed not only the skills to save one's own life, but even more importantly, luck.

Mahdi had been extraordinarily unlucky. While inspecting his troops, he was struck in the left leg by a stray bullet that had flown in from who knew where.

The bullet had not hit the bone. It had merely left a hole in his thigh. With the medical technology of this era, that could only be considered a minor injury.

The bullet had missed anything vital. As long as he received prompt treatment, there was an eighty or ninety percent chance that he would survive.

However, Mahdi's luck had not been good enough. Such a small wound had actually become infected.

In theory, an infection was not necessarily fatal. Most patients could be saved with antibiotics. If all else failed, amputation could still preserve one's life.

Unfortunately, this was the African Continent, where medicine and medical personnel were scarce. Britain and Austria were not so lavish as to send