Chapter 893: Finished

(Many thanks to the book friend "A Night of Rising Wind" for the 10,000 reward. Gentlemen, what follows are the two chapters I mentioned.)

These black-line shadows spiraled and howled, emitting fierce whistling sounds in the air. They spun at high speed like electric fans, streaking rapidly through the sky, lashing all along their path. Wherever they passed, men and horses had their skulls shattered, blood and plasma splattering.

Luohuan, Banner Lord of the Plain Red Banner of the Eight Banners Manchu, desperately reined in his horse. His hair stood on end as he watched all this. All around him were these shrieking, twisting, elongated black shadows. These shadows seemed slow but were actually fast. They spun and screamed with a mournful keen. Those struck or entangled by them died in ways too horrible to behold.

Suddenly, a long black-line shadow lunged at Luohuan. Luohuan dodged in terror, seemingly evading by the narrowest of margins, or perhaps the chain-shot missed his left cheek by a foot. Just as he breathed a sigh of relief, he suddenly heard a mournful shriek from his right.

Just as Luohuan turned his head in horror, a chain-shot had already twisted around his neck, then ripped his head clean off. Luohuan's headless corpse spurted fountains of blood on the horse for a moment before crashing heavily to the ground.

Dudu, Banner Lord of the Bordered Red Banner of the Eight Banners Manchu, struggled desperately to control his frenzied horse. Suddenly, his whole body convulsed, and he spewed a large mouthful of blood mixed with shredded flesh. The large end of a chain-shot had slammed heavily into his lumbar vertebrae.

The iron ball smashed his lumbar vertebrae to pieces on the spot. Then the iron chain followed through with a fierce, twisting lash. This twist actually severed his entire waist, ornate gilded armor and all.

The culprit remained with his lower body, hanging from the saddle along with his lower limbs. Dudu's entire upper body crashed heavily to the ground. Then his colorful internal organs, large and small intestines, spilled out all over the ground.

Large beads of cold sweat broke out on Dudu's forehead. He looked at his current state, his lips trembling, making rasping sounds from his throat, but unable to form a single complete word.

Suddenly, the horse let out a neigh and fled far away. Dudu's Adam's apple bobbed rapidly up and down. His eyes opened to their widest. Abruptly, he let out a great roar, used his hands with all his might, and began to crawl in pursuit of his own lower body.

The terror of chain-shot is truly difficult to describe. Being killed instantly by the small iron pellets was a mercy. If one was merely grazed by the chain-shot, one often did not die immediately, but suffered torment amidst agonizing, mournful wails.

The second volley of five hundred rockets fired in unison. After they burst, too many chain-shots were howling. Wherever they passed, the ground was covered with Qing soldiers crawling in a blur of blood and flesh. Their agonized wails made one's hair stand on end.

"Loose!"

The third volley of five hundred rockets, trailing brilliant flames, howled into the sky. This time, they mostly fell into the formation of the Plain Blue Banner of the Eight Banners Manchu. After Banner Lord Haoge died, his eldest son, Qi Zheng'e, was too young, so the banner's authority was jointly controlled by various princes, dukes, and ministers.

After Dorgon ascended the throne, these key ministers of the Plain Blue Banner were relatively low-key. However, Zhao Xuan's rockets would not spare them just because they were low-key. Five hundred rockets screamed down, smashing into their formation, erupting into clusters of thunderous flames...

"Loose!"

"Loose!"

"Loose!"

Zhao Xuan's roars were continuous. The sky was filled with the mournful shrieks of rockets. The sky was full of gunpowder smoke and flames. The sky above the Qing army seemed about to be dyed red by the conflagration. Watching the crisscrossing smoke and fire, the sky red and blazing, rockets fell like rain, wave after wave. The scene was like a volcanic eruption, like meteors falling.

On the ridge, the Crown Prince, Chen Xinjia, and others stared with their mouths agape. The officers and soldiers in the cavalry and infantry formations also stared with mouths wide open. Even the villagers conscripted to help from places like Zhuxinzhuang and Huilongguan stared with mouths wide open. Many even knelt, murmuring prayers to Buddha.

Everything before their eyes was a divine miracle to them. What they saw today truly broadened their horizons and showed them the world.

Wang Dou looked over there, a smile appearing on his face: "Spectacular. Much more spectacular than watching a blockbuster."

He sighed inwardly. This was the power of civilization.

Human history is the history of using tools and developing technology. First, using fire, using stone tools, then bronze and iron weapons, bows and arrows, stirrups, and so on. Then came firearms, cannons, rockets, missiles, and the like.

Their power also extended from tens of meters, to hundreds of meters, to several li, and finally to tens of li, hundreds of li, even thousands of li.

Developing to the point where, later on, a person sits at home, and a missile is launched from thousands of li away. You die without even knowing who gave you that hit.

Would it develop to the point where, later on, someone fires a shot at you from several light-years away? That would truly be an unexpected calamity.

The generational gap in civilization creates crushing superiority. At the Battle of Baliqiao, tens of thousands of Manchu and Mongol cavalry were annihilated, while the British and French forces suffered only a few casualties. Less than ten thousand British and French troops routed a million Qing soldiers. To avoid being crushed by others, one must continuously develop.

The power of civilization and technology far surpasses individual martial valor. This is also reflected in the use of tools. The bow and arrow is a tool. The cannon is a tool. The sniper rifle is also a tool.

People may not have distinctions of high and low, noble and base, but tools certainly do. The archery skill you painstakingly trained for over a decade, able to pierce a willow leaf at a hundred paces, cannot withstand an ordinary rifle bullet fired from several hundred meters away. This is the crushing superiority formed by high-level tools over low-level tools.

Developing to the point where, later on, weapons that decide victory from a thousand li away emerge one after another. No matter how brave you are personally, facing the enemy's sharp weapons, you can only knock your head on the ground, because you die without even seeing the enemy's shadow.

His own painstaking efforts, ten years of construction achievements, formed a crushing superiority over the enemy before him. However, to always crush others and not be crushed by others, one must develop tools and continuously raise the level of civilization. Unlike cold weapons, the development of hot weapons is closely linked to the degree of civilization.

He watched the rocket battalion below continuously firing rockets. In a short time, they had fired at least five thousand rockets. He estimated that the Qing army's casualties had exceeded thirty thousand, and most of the dead and wounded were Manchu soldiers. Wang Dou estimated that the main formation of the Manchu Eight Banners over there numbered no more than fifty thousand men. With over half dead or wounded in one go, the Tatars were likewise finished.

Wang Dou saw that Dorgon's gold-threaded dragon banner had also fallen. He just didn't know if Dorgon had been blown up.

"The Great Qing... is finished!"

Abatai stared blankly at the situation over at the central army's main formation. The people beside him were also ashen-faced.

With a long sigh, Abatai said to his most beloved son, Bolo: "There is no saving the central army over there. Leave immediately. Do not stop along the way. Do not even stay in Liaodong. Go north, go west. Go. The farther you go, the better."

Bolo was Abatai's third son. Historically, he was quite remarkable. He was once appointed General Who Pacifies the South with the rank of Beile, and then campaigned in Zhejiang and Fujian, routing the Tang Prince and others.

At this moment, Bolo anxiously said: "Ama, let's go together."

Abatai looked lovingly at his son, but resolutely shook his head.

Gabushixian Niru Janggin Solhono, Boshoku Tonggaer, and Gabushixian soldiers Hundashan, Zhaisamu, Ebei, and others rushed over urgently. They wanted to report to the Emperor the emergency intelligence that the Jingbian Army had already outflanked the rear wing.

Unexpectedly, after crossing the Sha River, just as they rushed not far from the central army's main formation, they saw ahead a heaven-covering, earth-shattering mournful shriek, gunpowder smoke and flames engulfing the entire military formation, and countless Manchu and Mongol cavalry fleeing in panic like wolves and charging like boars.

They stared blankly, with only one thought in their hearts: "It's over. The Great Qing is finished."

Dorgon struggled to his feet. Before him was a scene too horrible to behold.

Just when the Qing army's main formation's morale was at its highest, the Jingbian Army's rockets arrived. They came in an endless stream, wave after wave. Before they could react, in a short time, the Qing army in the formation had taken at least five thousand rockets. In particular, his Manchu core was nearly completely lost.

His area was even more the key coverage zone for them. The rockets fired were all large ones. Just now, nearly a hundred heavy rockets had fallen. Therefore, before him was an exceedingly gruesome scene. The ground was covered with piles of mangled, pulpy corpses.

He saw: Khorchin Jasagh Heshuo Tuxiyetu Prince Badali, and Jasagh Duoluo Baturu Commandery Prince Manzhuxili, their eyes wide open, their bodies broken, tangled together with a large pile of Mongol Junwangs and Guogongs. Flesh, blood, severed limbs, organs, intestines, and stomachs were all mixed together.

He saw: Fan Zhiwan and Li Yutian rolling on the ground, vomiting large mouthfuls of blood. Each had been hit by dozens of small iron pellets, their bodies riddled like sieves.

He saw: Gao Hongzhong, eyes staring, crawling on the ground. Only a small amount of flesh connected his waist and legs. As he crawled, the things inside his body continuously flowed out from the broken area. Not far from him, Grand Secretaries Ning Wanwo and Fan Wencheng looked at him in terror, hugging each other and shrieking mournfully.

He saw: the head of Ying'erdai, the Minister of Revenue, rolling far away on the ground, still bearing an expression of disbelief.

He saw: his civil academy and six ministries, high and low officials, suffering heavy casualties. Ministers Meng Atu, Nangnuke, Jueluosa, Beile Sahalian, and others were rolling on the ground, their fates unknown.

He saw: Gabushixian Gala Angbang Ubai's body turned to minced flesh. His most elite Gabushixian soldiers were nearly all dead or wounded.

He saw...

Dorgon trembled, looking at these gruesome scenes one after another. He raised his head to the sky and let out a mournful howl. Tears of blood slowly flowed from his eyes.

The howling of the rockets gradually ceased. The sky full of gunpowder smoke and flames had yet to disperse. The choking smell of gunpowder was slowly blown away by the wind. Li Guangheng and the others saw only a sparse scattering of slave cavalry charging over. Moreover, they began to panic, hesitate, and show terror when they were still over a li away.

Especially the Eight Banners Mongol, Outer Vassal Mongol, and Khorchin Mongol troops behind their two wings were all collapsing, all fleeing.

"Attack!"

Li Guangheng issued the order. The bugler beside him sounded the clear, ringing charge, and nearly thirty thousand Jingbian Army cavalry let out a mighty roar: "Ten thousand victories!"

They began to walk slowly, then the unbroken line of cavalry gradually accelerated. Their speed grew faster and faster, until at last they surged forward like a rolling torrent.

"Jingbian Army, advance!"

Han Chao also gave the order. The infantry of the central grand formation, and the infantry behind the cavalry grand formation, also began to form ranks and march.

The great army was like a moving bank of dark clouds, blotting out the sky and hiding the sun. They surged forward like a tide, and the very earth trembled beneath them!

"A full-frontal assault! The ten thousand reserve infantry at Dang'er Ridge are all to move to the eastern battlefield against the slave brigands!"

Watching the magnificent sight of thousands upon thousands of troops marching and charging, the heroic passion in Wang Dou's heart surged endlessly. He issued his final order, his right fist clenching tightly: "In the end, victory is still mine!"

……

A look of palpitating shock flickered in Tang Tong's eyes. Over where the central grand formation was, the sky itself seemed to be scorched red. The sky full of smoke, cloud, and rocket arrows possessed the power of gods.

His trusted general, Tang Zong, and the others beside him also gaped wide-mouthed. The Jingbian Army's power was too terrifying.

Tang Tong stared over there for a long time, then suddenly turned his head and said to his trusted general Tang Zong, "Tell the brothers — our Miyun Army has risen in revolt!"

He said to the crowd, "Abatai is not easy to kill. We will go kill Wu Sangui. With this pledge of allegiance, Wang Dou will surely let us off, and we might even earn some merit!"