Chapter 273: Taking Zunyi City

Standing off to the side, Sun Chuanting's face flashed with a flicker of excitement, but it quickly settled back down.

After a long moment, Sun Chuanting finally spoke: "Truly extraordinary!"

Cannons roared, muskets thundered.

The entire area below Zunyi city was shrouded in a haze of smoke.

Only in the brief moments when the wind blew away the gunsmoke could one see what was happening nearby.

The people on the city wall simply could not stand up to return fire—anyone who showed their head now would be hit.

Cannonballs smashed into the wall's parapet, while musket bullets struck the crenellations. Countless dust clouds rose as dirt and stone flew in every direction.

The dead lay sprawled on the ground, the wounded wailed in agony, and those who were unharmed had long since lost their will to fight. This stretch of wall, less than two zhang wide, had become a hell on earth in an instant.

Those heavily armored infantrymen had already reached the base of the wall.

They pulled tools from their packs, quickly drilled holes into the city wall, then stuffed in several coils of long fire sticks, connected them with fuses, and linked a dozen or more powder sticks together.

After completing this task, they swiftly lit the fuses, turned around, and began hurrying back.

The city wall was still being suppressed by firepower, and no one saw what was happening. Even if someone had spotted these infantrymen, there was no way to stop them—because showing one's head meant being targeted by concentrated fire.

This was a tactic the Tiger Roar Battalion had drilled countless times, so they executed it with practiced ease.

Watching the lit fuses, Qi Yuangong gently waved the flag in his hand and said: "Forward!"

As Qi Yuangong's words fell, the infantrymen carrying muskets began to advance.

They formed into square formations, marching with steady, uniform steps, showing not a trace of panic. Their flintlocks fired bang bang bang, maintaining continuous suppressive fire on Zunyi city.

After firing, they fell back to reload while the rear ranks of gunners stepped up to take their place, never pausing for a moment—their advance was very swift.

Seeing this, Sun Chuanting was full of admiration. He turned to Yuan Keli and said: "Your Excellency, I discussed this matter with Qi Yuangong. He said that a qualified gunner—that is, a musketeer—needs to complete a thousand shots, not only with speed but also with accuracy."

"Only those who complete this training and pass are qualified to become musketeers. His Majesty spent no small amount of money cultivating these men."

Yuan Keli glanced at Sun Chuanting, nodded slightly, and said nothing.

He was now somewhat annoyed with this young man.

He could see it himself—looking at these men's practiced postures and steady bearing, if they hadn't been battle-tested for a long time, they could never have such quality.

Under such circumstances, they must have undergone extensive training. Muskets were difficult to manufacture and extremely costly, and such training would certainly accelerate their wear and tear. Meanwhile, ammunition also required vast sums of money—in other words, every single day of training for these men was spending money.

But the results were truly enviable. This time, only five thousand men had followed him here. If he had twenty thousand troops like these under his command, he would have already pushed straight through to Chongqing.

Just as Yuan Keli was thinking this, a thunderous boom sounded, and the very ground seemed to tremble.

The nearby city of Zunyi erupted as if heaven and earth were splitting apart, and then the city wall collapsed as swiftly as a block of butter in summer.

In that instant, dust and smoke billowed everywhere, and the faint cries of human voices were swallowed up by the haze.

Although black powder wasn't terribly powerful on its own, granulated black powder packed a decent punch, and a large quantity had been used. Moreover, Zunyi was a small city, not a great one, so it was blown apart directly.

Seeing this, Qi Yuangong nodded with satisfaction and waved his hand.

As he waved, the entire formation began to accelerate, and the infantrymen guarding the flanks also charged forward.

Leading the way were the heavily armored infantry. They marched forward with a rustling sound, their steps perfectly uniform, their long sabers striking their shields with clanging noises, shouting loudly: "Tiger! Tiger! Tiger!"

The infantry on both flanks also began to advance.

Behind them came the spearmen.

On the other side were the crossbowmen, holding exquisite steel crossbows fitted with a large magazine containing bolts.

This was the latest repeating crossbow developed by the Hundred Works Institute—twenty shots in succession, with fast firing speed and high accuracy. It could be called the most powerful weapon for street fighting within a city.

After the heavy infantry crossed into the city, the spearmen and crossbowmen charged in as well, followed by the musketeers.

Qi Yuangong carried his saber as he walked in the middle of the formation, dispatching men to hunt down the rebel troops scattering and shrinking back within the city.

Qi Yuangong had entered through the West Gate, so the rebels were now all fleeing toward the East Gate.

The Tiger Roar Battalion was thoroughly familiar with the routine of clearing and hunting down enemies within a city.

Twenty-five men formed one squad, rapidly splitting up to pursue and kill. Each squad was no more than fifty paces from the next, allowing for quick mutual support at any time.

The clearing operation was extremely fast. Even when encountering several hundred rebels, two or three squads would quickly encircle them and soon scatter them completely—or even annihilate them outright.

The rebels simply could not organize any effective resistance. Before long, they were compressed and pushed out through the East Gate. There was no way to stay in the city any longer—if they didn't run, they would all die here.

The rebel commander stationed in Zunyi was named Zhang Tong, and he was She Chongming's trusted confidant.

The reason Zhang Tong had been stationed here was to hold back reinforcements coming from Guizhou. At the same time, if an opportunity presented itself, he was to charge in and seize Guizhou.

But he had lost in a single battle, and all plans were now useless.

Zhang Tong wiped the sweat from his face and looked at the few hundred men remaining beside him, feeling utterly aggrieved inside.

What kind of battle was this? They had lost without even seeing the enemy!

Hearing the footsteps behind him, Zhang Tong truly wanted to turn back and fight to the death. But recalling how his men had been cut down, Zhang Tong lost his nerve.

He hurried toward the East Gate, intending to escape from there.

In the Ming army formation not far away, Yuan Keli glanced at the sun on the horizon—sure enough, it had not yet set.

He said to Sun Chuanting: "It seems this Qi Yuangong has done it. We can indeed have our meal inside the city."

"With a battle fought like this, this humble official has no desire to go into the city for a meal," Sun Chuanting said, though his face was full of smiles.

"If you won't eat in the city, then don't eat in the city. There's still an ambush to spring at the East Gate—do you want to come along with me to watch?" Yuan Keli said with a smile.

"When did Your Excellency send men over?" Sun Chuanting asked, startled.

"Sent them long ago," Yuan Keli said with a laugh. "I had Guizhou Regional Commander Zhang Yanfang lead ten thousand men to lie in ambush over there. I estimate that once they run out of the East Gate, they'll be ambushed by Zhang Yanfang's forces."

"I didn't see when they left?" Sun Chuanting said hesitantly.

"You were too busy staring ahead just now—how could you have noticed such things?" Yuan Keli said with exasperation. "Young man, remember on the battlefield: always keep your eyes on all four directions and your ears open to all eight sides. Never let your attention wander."

"Your Excellency's instruction is correct; this humble official will remember it." Sun Chuanting said hastily.

Sun Chuanting felt that Yuan Keli was acting strangely. This wasn't teaching him at all—it was plainly just an excuse to scold him. Had he done something wrong?

Or had he offended him somehow?

There was nothing at all.

Sun Chuanting was utterly baffled.

Watching Sun Chuanting's bewildered expression, Yuan Keli nodded with satisfaction.

He certainly wasn't going to tell Sun Chuanting that he had done it on purpose. When he had let Zhang Yanfang leave just now, he had specifically instructed him to circle around from the rear—Sun Chuanting couldn't have spotted anything even if he'd turned his head to look, let alone kept his eyes forward.

As for the rebels on the walls of Zunyi city, when would they have had time to watch troop movements below the walls?

Besides, even if they did see it, so what?

Zunyi city had already been breached. Those rebels either had to flee, or stay inside the city and wait for death.

Why was it that when besieging three sides and leaving one open, even knowing the unbesieged side was dangerous, people still insisted on breaking out from that direction?

The reason was simple—that side might be dangerous, but the other three sides were even less safe, all heavily guarded by elite troops. Either way, they could only gamble.

That was exactly the situation left to the rebels inside the city—run, or die where they stood if they didn't. So even if they suspected an ambush lay ahead, that was the only road they could take.

Zhang Tong felt exactly that way at this moment.

He let out a breath and gathered his men together as best he could.

By the time the footsteps behind grew closer, he had assembled more than three thousand men around him.

Zhang Tong's expression did not improve in the slightest—it remained extremely grim. He knew he was finished.

Even if he managed to get back alive, the king would never forgive him. After all, there had been a full ten thousand troops stationed at Zunyi, and now only a little over three thousand remained by Zhang Tong's side.

Needless to say, those seven thousand-plus were all lost in there—they couldn't even run their way out.

Zhang Tong also knew the reason—it was that the enemy had attacked the city too quickly. Although the enemy had entered through the west gate, he had to defend all four gates. He had concentrated some men at the west gate, but there were also men on the other gates—who could have imagined the enemy would take the city in a single assault?

By the time the enemy charged through the west gate, the men at the other gates probably hadn't even received word yet. By the time the news spread, the Ming troops had already rushed up—by then it was too late to run.

Under such circumstances, Zhang Tong knew he had no choice. He said to the men behind him: "Fight our way out and we live. Everyone follow me—we break out through the east gate!"

The men behind Zhang Tong had reddened eyes as well. At this point there was no need to boost morale—everyone was fighting for their lives.

Everyone knew that if they couldn't run their way out, they'd die. This was what they called being driven to fight with their backs to the wall. At this stage, not giving it everything simply wouldn't do.

And so, in one surge, they followed Zhang Tong charging out through the east gate.

After the group fought their way out of the east gate, they discovered that there was nothing around them at all—complete calm.

This let Zhang Tong breathe a sigh of relief. He led his men hurrying eastward, while turning back to glare hatefully at Zunyi city.

Just wait—I'll be back next time, and when I am, I won't lose so easily!

After running several li out, Zhang Tong still didn't dare to stop.

But just as he began to feel a bit relieved, the thunderous sound of footsteps suddenly rumbled from all around—groups of soldiers had already encircled them, all of them Ming troops.

Watching this scene, Zhang Yanfang wore a rather smug expression on his face.

He had earned some merit this time—though of course, the top credit belonged to Qi Yuangong, and he wouldn't dare try to claim it.

That man had breached the city and slain the enemy; Zhang Yanfang had merely picked up an easy advantage. At the same time, after learning of Qi Yuangong's identity, Zhang Yanfang had already begun to form ideas.

Who was Qi Yuangong?

Descendant of a distinguished family, a tiger cub from a general's house. His father was Qi Jin, his grand-uncle was the renowned Qi Jiguang. Now, what standing did that man have, and what standing did he himself have?

He had heard that Qi Jin was in the capital, the military officer most trusted by His Majesty, in charge of commanding the Capital Camps and organizing the new army.

Looking at how Qi Yuangong had led these men in battle today—this was clearly the new army. How could Zhang Yanfang not be tempted?

If there had been no opportunity, that would be one thing—but now the opportunity was right before his eyes. Who would want to stay guarding the southwestern frontier for the rest of their life?

It was still being an official here, but what kind of environment was this place?

If he earned merit this time, and had Qi Yuangong put in a few good words for him, maybe he could get into the capital.

With such thoughts in mind, Zhang Yanfang naturally wanted to leave a good impression on Qi Yuangong—snatching credit was simply out of the question.

Looking at the rebels before him, Zhang Yanfang couldn't be bothered with idle talk. He directly ordered those around him: "Send someone up to call out—surrender and be spared death, don't resist to the end, or it's kill them all without mercy!"

At the same time, Zhang Yanfang raised his hand and said directly: "Archers, ready."

The meaning was clear—if the enemy didn't surrender, they'd just shoot them dead with arrows. There was nothing to discuss with them; afterwards they'd just cut off heads and take them back for merit.

Zhang Tong looked at the Ming troops before him, his eyes nearly splitting with rage. He turned his head and glanced back at the men behind him.

Hearing the Ming army's shouts, these men already wore varied expressions.

Zhang Tong's heart gave a lurch. He knew he couldn't wait any longer.

So Zhang Tong said: "Fight our way out and we can return to the king—when we do, the king will surely reward us heavily! If we surrender, we'll probably just be buried alive!"

"Charging out still gives us a path to live—surrendering is a dead end. Follow me and charge!" After saying this, Zhang Tong, murderous aura blazing, charged forward at the head of the group.

At Zhang Tong's side, his trusted confidants gritted their teeth and followed.

The others exchanged glances, not knowing what to do, but they still tightened their grips on their blades and charged forward together with Zhang Tong. Clearly, they too felt that fighting their way out would let them live.

The group rapidly charged forward.

Seeing this, Zhang Yanfang's face instantly showed a look of contempt. He said coldly to the men beside him: "Loose arrows. After two volleys, charge in."

"Yes, sir." The man beside him acknowledged and quickly passed on the order.

The army shifted slowly into motion, and arrows flew out like rain, dropping into Zhang Tong's ranks like soybeans.

Thunk! Thunk! Thunk!

Arrow shafts pierced into human bodies, producing many sounds of tearing flesh. Blood instantly sprayed across the ground, and countless dead collapsed upon this land.

Countless people began to panic and lose their composure, scattering like headless flies.

Zhang Tong still gritted his teeth and charged forward. An arrow had struck his shoulder, but he didn't dare stop at all.

He knew that once he halted his steps, he might never again summon the courage to run forward.

Blade in hand, eyes red, teeth clenched, Zhang Tong charged toward the bleak, hopeless expanse ahead.

Even if he was going to die, he would die on the road of charging forward.

Zhang Yanfang watched the desperate, teeth-gritting Zhang Tong charge, waved his hand disdainfully, and directly ordered: "Take him alive."