Chapter 214: The New Army's Whetstone

When the Nan'ao naval forces faced an enemy in battle, they never begrudged gunpowder expenditure. At the slightest opportunity, they would pour out firepower as if their lives depended on it, like mad dogs sinking their teeth into a victim and refusing to let go.

This was especially true at the Battle of Fuzhou. Sea Wolf ships prowled the strait, slaughtering all in their path, while the Tianyuan continued shelling the Jurchen camp onshore—even when the Jurchen were nearly all dead, the cannon fire did not cease.

After that, the Jurchen forces bestowed a "title of honor" upon the Nan'ao navy: "Sea Mad Dog," which in Jurchen was called "Urhu Indahun." It was itself a term of contempt, and when the Jurchen spoke of it in daily life, it was mostly in jest and mockery.

But when the Sea Mad Dog arrived in person, and the signature thunder of cannon fire rang out without pause, that nickname immediately revealed its savage side.

The Great Jin fleet had come this time to transport horses. They had few soldiers aboard and no cannons on their ships.

The moment the cannons roared, everyone recalled the terror of the Battle of Changsheng Island. Without a moment's hesitation, they abandoned ship and fled ashore.

The Jurchen envoy ran with tremendous speed, his face twisted in utter terror.

Yang Qi thought to himself: "These Jurchen are incomparably fierce on land—every one of them could devour an enemy's flesh raw. Yet facing Lin Qian's forces, they're even more useless than the Fire Sail Battalion. Truly, everything has its conqueror. This place is well beyond cannon range—I don't know what they're so afraid of."

His expression was calm as he gazed toward the horizon. Red flashes continued to flicker across the sky, and the sea and land around the dock seethed as if boiling.

The Great Jin warships, like little boats caught in towering waves, broke apart one after another, shattering into fragments.

The fire grew larger and larger, gradually engulfing the entire dock and its trestle bridge. Flames leaped two or three zhang into the air, illuminating everything within a li in brilliant light, burning so bright that even the starlight seemed to dim.

This fleet comprised nearly half of the Great Jin navy's ships, and it had been destroyed by the Nan'ao naval forces without the slightest effort.

Surely the Beile would be so furious he'd spit blood.

After all, they weren't his own ships, and the Jurchen looked down on others like dogs. Seeing the fleet destroyed, Yang Qi felt nothing but schadenfreude.

"Swoosh—BOOM!"

Just then, a piercing shriek tore through the darkness from somewhere ahead. Fifty paces to his right front, a dark shadow slammed into the ground with a dull thud, and dirt splashed outward like water from the impact.

The dark object bounced off the ground and hopped forward a good distance before coming to rest.

Yang Qi's heart jolted. He hadn't expected the Nan'ao naval forces to actually fire cannons at the shore!

There were only a few people on land—were they using cannons to swat mosquitoes?

Yang Qi cursed inwardly without end, swung himself onto his horse, and galloped toward Jeju City together with his elder brother.

Yang Liu had ridden only a few paces when he heard the Jurchen envoy cursing behind him. He wheeled his horse around and reached down to pull the Jurchen envoy up onto his mount.

By the time they entered the north city gate, the cannon fire from the dock had already ceased.

Only then did the three of them relax. They climbed the city wall and gazed out toward the dock.

At the line where the ink-blue sky met the pitch-black earth, a faint thread of orange firelight could be seen.

"Truly a mad dog!" the Jurchen envoy cursed viciously.

"May I ask, honored envoy, what should we do now?" Yang Liu asked.

The Jurchen envoy countered: "How many soldiers are on this island? How much grain?"

"Over three hundred ronin, and three hundred Joseon soldiers. Grain enough for only two months." Yang Liu's face showed anxiety.

The Nan'ao naval forces were not skilled at land warfare. With over a thousand soldiers of their own, they had no fear of the navy landing on the island.

What they feared was being besieged on a lonely island and slowly starving to death.

The Jurchen envoy glanced around the city. After a moment, his voice turned icy as he asked: "How many commoners are there on Jeju Island in total?"

Yang Liu thought for a moment, then answered: "Counting the horse grooms, farmers, and sea women, there should be six or seven thousand... Honored envoy, you don't mean to requisition grain from the people, do you?"

The Jurchen envoy let out a cold laugh: "Why bother requisitioning surplus grain? Aren't these poor, lowly wretches themselves grain?"

Yang Liu and Yang Qi's faces changed color.

The Jurchen envoy sighed: "A pity these people are too poor—all sinew and bone, no flavor to them. But at least they're fresh.

Ration them out, and they'll last a year or more. Once the Sea Mad Dog runs out of provisions, they'll have to lift the siege."

It was around this time that the surviving Jurchen from the fleet finally reached the city.

Yang Liu opened the gate and let them in.

The envoy did a rough count and found that only a little over forty men had returned.

"Where are the others?" the Jurchen envoy asked.

"All killed by the cannon fire," someone said in a trembling voice. "The Sea Mad Dog came too fast. By the time we heard the cannons and started to take cover, it was already too late. We barely made it to shore, and a few more were blown to pieces..."

The Jurchen envoy was silent for a long moment before finally saying: "Enough. Go get some rest."

Then he said to the Yang brothers: "Send men to watch the shore. Report any movement at once."

"Yes." Yang Liu cupped his fists in acknowledgment.

The Jurchen envoy descended from the city wall and strolled through the city with his guards, circling several times before finally selecting a dwelling that looked less dilapidated than the others. He gestured to his guards. They charged inside, and moments later, cries of alarm from men and women rang out. Shortly after, five people were dragged out—men, women, young and old alike, clearly one family. The male head of the household kowtowed and begged for mercy without cease.

The Jurchen envoy waved his hand indifferently. The guards swung their blades, and five heads rolled to the ground. Blood gushed like springs, staining the surrounding earth a vivid crimson.

The Jurchen envoy moved into the family's dwelling without the slightest qualm.

On the city wall, the Yang brothers gave orders to their subordinates to arrange the city's defenses and post lookouts, then each returned to his quarters and fell into a deep sleep.

At dawn, before the sky had even begun to lighten.

Yang Qi was roused by his subordinate.

Yang Qi was in the middle of a sound sleep. He rolled over and, eyes still closed, cursed: "Get lost!"

His subordinate said urgently: "Lin Qian's forces are preparing to land."

"Huh?" Yang Qi opened his eyes. "How many men?"

"An estimated near a thousand, and they have cannons too!"

"Impossible!" Yang Qi rose from his bed, threw on his clothes haphazardly, and strode toward the city wall, speaking as he walked: "The trestle bridge was burned down last night. Large ships can't get close to shore—how could they possibly land this fast!"

His subordinate said urgently: "I don't know. When we went to check this morning, it was already like this..."

As he spoke, Yang Qi had already reached the city wall.

It was still three or four li from the shore, but fortunately the terrain was flat with no trees blocking the view.

Gazing out from the height, he could see seven massive ship silhouettes on the sea, like seven sea beasts.

On the shore was a stretch of positions, dark and dense like a storm cloud—clearly the landed Nan'ao naval forces.

The Jurchen envoy angrily rebuked, "What's going on? Didn't I tell you to have someone keep watch?"

Yang Liu said, "The enemy must have come ashore under cover of darkness last night. We were caught off guard..."

"Stupid pig!" the Jurchen envoy cursed.

A flash of anger passed through Yang Liu's eyes, but he lowered his head and said nothing.

Yang Qi refused to accept it and said, "So what if they came ashore? Just send men to attack them. Lin Qian may be formidable at sea, but my brothers and I don't fear him on land." The Jurchen envoy looked at him coldly, and after a moment, finally said, "No wonder the southern barbarians always lose battles — it's because there are too many stupid pigs like you brothers."

"What did you say?" Yang Qi flew into a rage and stepped forward to throw a punch.

The guards beside the envoy pressed their hands on their sword hilts and stepped forward.

The Jurchen envoy pointed at the great ships at sea and said, "In the Three Kingdoms, at the Battle of the Wei River, Cao Cao was defeated by the strategy of striking while the enemy was halfway across. Even children in our Great Jin know this. Do you think the mad sea dog doesn't? Do you think those great ships are anchored offshore just for show?"

Yang Qi immediately backed down. His blood had rushed to his head, and he had indeed forgotten that the Nan'ao naval forces still had cannon ships providing cover.

But losing the argument didn't mean losing face. Yang Qi angrily demanded, "Then what do you suggest we do?"

The Jurchen envoy thought for a moment and said, "Do your men know how to ride horses?"

Yang Liu said, "Archery and horsemanship are the foundation of a warrior's craft, but... Jeju's horses are small and slow to charge..."

"Shut your mouth." The Jurchen envoy's face was full of contempt. "We Jurchen built our rise on horseback archery. Do you think two sea bandits know better than us which horses are fit for war?"

Yang Liu gritted his teeth: "Yes."

The Jurchen envoy said, "What about the herd officer? Summon the herd officer."

No one moved. Yang Qi said with a hint of mockery, "The herd officer is the one Your Excellency killed last night."

The Jurchen envoy angrily said, "Then find the group leader! If the group leader is dead, find the deputy group leader! If the deputy group leader is dead, find the herdsman!"

"Yes." Yang Liu clasped his hands in salute and ordered men to go quickly.

An hour later, several group leaders from Jeju City stood on the city wall.

These men all had dark, leathery skin, thin and withered frames, hunched bodies, furtive expressions, and tattered clothes that barely covered them. White hair and white whiskers sprouted from their heads and chins. One look told you they had suffered beyond measure.

The Jurchen envoy said, "Find two hundred fine horses. These next few days: feed them well with grain, check their hooves, prepare the saddles, brush and massage them — get them ready for battle! The new army will spend one day preparing on the Jeju Island beachhead."

The next morning at dawn, the soldiers were well-fed and well-rested, full of energy.

In the central command tent, Lei Sanxiang was in discussion with the Battalion Commanders, Company Commanders, and squad leaders, deliberating siege tactics.

According to the intelligence gathered when they set sail, Jeju Island should have only had a few hundred Yi dynasty defenders — the new army could have taken it with ease.

But from the Jurchen prisoners, they learned that Hong Taiji, in order to counter the Nan'ao naval forces, had deliberately sent an additional three hundred ronin to garrison the island.

This greatly reduced the new army's numerical advantage.

Moreover, the new army had only just completed its training and still lacked cohesion. To fight such a hard battle on their very first engagement — no one felt confident.

Lei Sanxiang, however, was confident, for he held a secret weapon in his hands. For this attack, he had brought no fewer than twenty three-pounder field cannons. Even if the phalanx failed, the cannons alone could bombard Jeju City flat.

In the tent, Lei Sanxiang waved his hand and said, "Damn it all! We've trained hard for over half a year — now it's time to show what we're made of. Let's go kill some Japanese pirates!" At his command, the new army set out.

From the coastline to the foot of Jeju City was only four li in total. On a Ming battlefield, that distance wouldn't even count as a march.

But since this was the army's first battle, the soldiers were especially nervous. Some walked fast, some slow, and the formation was ragged.

Fortunately, the squad leaders were all veterans from the personal guard. Under their repeated shouts, the formation managed to hold steady.

The twenty three-pounder cannons, pushed by manpower, moved slowly at the rear of the column.

To accommodate the cannons and maintain formation, the march was very slow.

Lei Sanxiang didn't urge them on either. Stability was the priority — after all, Jeju City wasn't going anywhere. The city couldn't run away.

As long as the army could reach the city walls safely, even if it took a whole day to walk four li, Lei Sanxiang would accept it.

The sun rose to mid-sky, and the heat on Jeju Island grew oppressive. The soldiers gradually began to sweat. Fortunately, the day was clear, with no overcast rain.

Lei Sanxiang turned to look back and saw the coastline was already far behind. He estimated they had covered about one li.

At this distance, the cannon ships could still reach, but without accuracy — they could easily hit their own men.

Any further forward, and they would be completely beyond the cannon ships' protection.

Lei Sanxiang looked around. All he could see was grassland and bare rock — flat, open terrain, with only the occasional scattered tree, none tall enough to block the view.

Lei Sanxiang ordered the messenger: "Be alert on the flanks."

The messenger sprinted to the eastern and western ends of the column to relay the order to the two Company Commanders.

Another two li marched. The sun climbed to its zenith. There was no shade on the island, and the temperature rose quickly. Many soldiers were now drenched in sweat.

They were now only one li from Jeju City. They could see heads moving on the city walls, but no intense reaction.

Lei Sanxiang ordered the soldiers to make camp on the spot. The soldiers' tension relaxed, the formation dispersed, and everyone busied themselves with their tasks.

Lei Sanxiang, meanwhile, went to the front line to survey the terrain around Jeju City and select suitable positions for the cannons.

Just then, the ground trembled slightly.

Lei Sanxiang's expression shifted slightly. He stopped in his tracks, crouched down, pressed his ear to the ground, and held his breath. Sure enough, he heard the thundering vibration of horse hooves.

"Form the hollow square!" Lei Sanxiang shouted.

In the past six months, the new army soldiers had practiced various formations more than anything else. Their response to formation commands had become almost a conditioned reflex. At the order, they immediately rushed to their positions.

As the new army was forming up, from behind a ridge to the west, a cavalry force burst out. The thunder of hooves rumbled, kicking up dust clouds three or four zhang high in the sunlight. The hollow square formation had been designed specifically against cavalry, drilled as a last-minute addition for the Jeju Island campaign — no one had expected it would actually see use.

At this moment, between each unit, squad leaders were continuously screaming orders.

"Hold steady!"

"Listen to commands!"

"No one moves!"

The cavalry charged to within two li. By now the vibration was extremely pronounced — feet felt numb and tingly, and small stones on the ground hopped and danced.

On a slope at the northwest flank of the hollow square, the twenty three-pounder cannons had been set up.

The artillery squad leader took out the firing tables to compare, while the assistant squad leader reported the measured distance to him.

A moment later, the squad leader said, "Full charge, elevation ten degrees, load the shot, prepare to light the fuse!"

By now the cavalry had charged within five hundred paces, and a heart-stopping, violent tremor came from every direction.

The trembling ground, the pounding hooves, the clash of metal, and the war cries of the cavalry all merged into one.

Around the hollow square formation, gravel trembled, shaking the men numb from the ankles down. Terror was written on every face, and quite a few new soldiers were even crying. "Fix bayonets!" Lei Sanxiang said in a low voice, and orderlies scattered to relay the command.

"Fix bayonets!" The shouts of the squad leaders rang through the formation.

The front-rank soldiers, crying as they worked, drew their bayonets and fitted them onto their gun barrels. Some were so nervous that they dropped their bayonets several times, and a few even cut themselves.

"Boom! Boom! Boom..."

Just then, the artillery position on the northwest side erupted with thunderous roars, and a row of gunsmoke billowed from the neatly aligned muzzles.

The soldiers on the right flank of the formation heard a constant whistling overhead.

Then, along the cavalry's path of advance, great clods of earth burst into the air. The dull thud of solid iron shot striking the ground was like a giant drumstick slamming into the earth, momentarily drowning out even the pounding of hooves.

Several cannonballs flew straight into the cavalry ranks, and immediately came the muffled sounds of bones snapping and sinews tearing, mingled with the mournful cries of warhorses and the dull thuds of them crashing to the ground. A thick mist of blood rose from the gaps torn open by the cannonballs.

Though most of the shells did not score direct hits, they landed to the side of the cavalry's charge, bounced off the ground into ricochets, and smashed into the cavalry ranks once more. Blood mist rose on all sides, mixing with the dirt into a cloud of red-yellow dust.

The bodies of dead warhorses tripped up the cavalry behind them, and the men and horses in the rear of the column tumbled into a tangled heap.

The scene was utterly horrific.

"Raise your guns!" The squad leaders roared with hoarse, desperate voices.

The front-rank soldiers, no longer caring whether bayonets were fixed, reflexively raised their muskets and braced them against their shoulders.

Their faces were already smeared with tears and snot, their vision a complete blur, their hands and legs trembling like sieves, barely able to hold their guns steady. The surviving cavalry had already burst out of the blood mist, their warhorses driven to the absolute limit, each rider like a hideous asura.

In the flash of an instant, it was impossible to count how many cavalrymen were coming, or to see how many casualties the enemy had suffered.

The thunderous hoofbeats around them grew ever louder. The soldiers felt as though the whole world between heaven and earth was nothing but rumbling hooves, as if in the next second they would be trampled beneath them. "Fire!" the Company Commander shouted, and the squad leaders immediately bellowed the order down the line.

"Crack-crack-crack..."

Over a hundred matchlock muskets fired at once.

The entire western side of the formation was instantly shrouded in a bank of white gunsmoke.

Following the training formation, the front-rank soldiers crouched down to form a human barrier of pikes, the second rank fired and then also crouched, and from the third rank onward they rotated through. Between the ranks of the formation were gaps just wide enough for a man to pass through sideways.

The soldiers were so tense that some fell over when turning around, and a few were even stabbed by the bayonets of their comrades behind them.

The ranks momentarily fell into chaos, but the squad leaders shouted and cursed until the soldiers finally managed to get back into position.

"Raise your guns!"

In an instant, another volley of massed fire was unleashed.

The rear-rank soldiers had not spent as long staring down the cavalry, so their psychological pressure was much lighter; they withdrew in an orderly fashion without too much confusion.

But compared to training, they were still far too slow.

By now the leading cavalry had charged to within forty paces, and even the squad leaders had sweat beading on their foreheads.

"Raise your guns!"

With one volley, the cavalry vanguard crashed into an invisible wall. Seven or eight horses burst open in blooms of blood and pitched to the ground, their riders thrown off with broken bones and torn sinews, kicking up a cloud of dust.

"Boom! Boom! Boom..."

At this moment, the artillery position fired another salvo.

The ricocheting shots struck the ground and bounced up again, their trails of smoke racing straight toward the cavalry like the savage claws of some monstrous beast.

Another rain of blood fell among the cavalry.

Amid the dust and gunsmoke, the terrible carnage of the enemy's casualties was impossible to see—only the mournful whinnies of dying warhorses could be heard.

A fine mist of blood drifted over on the wind, soon speckling the soldiers all over with tiny droplets of blood.

The stench of blood was so thick that not even the sulfurous smell of black powder could cover it.

A dozen or so soldiers doubled over and vomited on the spot.

The squad leaders roared: "Don't stop! Raise your guns!"

Several front-rank soldiers had vomited so hard they could not straighten their backs, but under the squad leaders' blows and curses, they forced themselves upright, raised their guns, and let the vomit run from their mouths down over their bodies.

Another volley was fired into the blood mist, dust, and gunsmoke, and the front-rank soldiers fell back.

The next rank of soldiers stepped forward. Amid the squad leaders' nearly unbroken stream of abuse, the rear-rank soldiers trod on the vomit of the front rank, mechanically raised their guns, fired, and then retreated to the back of the column.

The entire formation worked like a waterwheel, endlessly repeating the cycle of raising guns and firing.

On the battlefield, the dust and gunsmoke were so thick that the squad leaders could not see how many enemies remained—nor did they need to.

No order to cease fire had been given, and even if nothing but corpses remained in the smoke, they would keep firing without pause.

By now the hoofbeats were growing weaker and weaker, and every soldier on the western side of the formation had rotated through two rounds of firing.

Their coordination was growing smoother and smoother.

Many soldiers had not even wiped the snot from their noses, their faces streaked with tears, yet their expressions had already turned numb—raising their guns, firing, and rotating without the slightest hesitation. Seeing the soldiers like this, Lei Sanxiang ordered: "Cease fire."

"Cease fire!" The order was relayed level by level, from the orderlies to the Battalion Commanders, Company Commanders, and squad leaders.

At last, the nerve endings of the great beast that was the formation received the command, and the firing stopped.

The Company Commanders gathered the wounded and called the medics forward to treat them.

The southwest wind gradually blew the dust away.

Lei Sanxiang pulled out his telescope and looked across the battlefield. Within a square area five hundred paces in front of the formation, dozens of cavalry corpses lay scattered every which way, men and horses piled atop one another, their deaths utterly gruesome.

Farther off, fifty or sixty ronin were fleeing on foot, evidently thrown from their horses when the beasts were startled by the gunfire and cannon fire.

Even farther away, at the edge of the sky, the retreating backs of several dozen cavalrymen could still be seen.

Lei Sanxiang ordered the troops to rest in place, set up camp, and had each squad leader inspect the soldiers' bayonets. Any bayonet that was missing or stained with blood, as well as any soldier with wounds on his back, was to be investigated and severely punished.

In the afternoon, the camp was completed, and the Battalion Commander came to report the battle statistics.

"Reporting to the Regional Commander: in this battle, forty-nine enemies were killed. Our forces suffered twenty-three light injuries and one serious injury." The Battalion Commander hesitated a moment before adding, "Mostly cuts from friendly bayonets, along with sprains and falls... The seriously injured one set off the gunpowder on his own person."

"God damn it! Understood." Lei Sanxiang cursed, then waved his hand to dismiss the Battalion Commander.

This record of battle sounds shameful, but in truth it was already very good.

Never mind that these were new recruits with only half a year of training facing battle for the first time—even Liaodong infantry, when facing a cavalry charge, would be considered fierce and brave if they didn't flee and could even fight back. However, Lei Sanxiang had also used a trick to prevent the soldiers from running: fixing bayonets early, so that anyone who retreated would run into their comrades' bayonets. This was also why Lei Sanxiang wanted to investigate those with wounds on their backs after the battle.

All in all, for the new army to maintain rotating fire under a cavalry charge, with only one man blowing himself up by igniting his own gunpowder, and the artillery not bombing their own infantry, was already extremely rare.

The army was different from the navy. Lei Sanxiang himself had once served as a soldier in the Divine Engine Battalion, and he knew what new recruits were like when they first went to battle.

Amid guns, horses, and severed limbs, crying and pissing one's pants were commonplace.

A man's first battle had basically nothing to do with what he was before or what he would become after.

Lei Sanxiang's father, when he first went to battle, was so scared he nearly shit his pants. He would rather squat with his head in his hands and wait to die than raise his three-barreled gun to fight back, so furious that the Company Commander nearly chopped him down.

But during the Battle of Sarhu, his father smashed open the skulls of three Tartar soldiers with his three-barreled gun, and in the end even lit a powder keg, dying together with a White Armor soldier.

Lei Sanxiang's elder brother stood a full head taller than Lei Sanxiang, his build only slightly inferior to Li Kuiqi's. From childhood to adulthood he had been the village bully, and in training he was worth two men, fierce and fearless.

Yet in his first battle, he couldn't take a single step, his crotch soaked through, and he was mocked by his comrades for the better part of a year.

At the foot of the Sarhu cliffs, the elder brother, to save Lei Sanxiang, lured away an entire squad of White Armor soldiers alone and fought to his death.

Lei Sanxiang's own first battle was even worse—his whole body weak, he had to be supported and carried along by his father and brother the entire way.

And now?

He'd become a goddamn Regional Commander!

A soldier's courage is forged on the battlefield.

Whether a man is a coward or a hero cannot be judged by his first battle.

After this engagement, these thousand men could no longer be called green recruits—they would surely become the backbone of the new army.

The pity was that, because they had formed a square formation, only the soldiers on one side could fire, while the soldiers on the other three sides had only experienced half the battle.

But the good news was that Jeju City still stood.

From the morning's engagement, Lei Sanxiang could tell that the soldiers of Jeju City were very weak.

Nearly two hundred cavalry couldn't even reach the new recruits before being broken—this was simply a joke.

An opponent this weak was just right to serve as a whetstone for the new army.

Lei Sanxiang looked at Jeju City beyond the tent and suddenly understood the helmsman's painstaking intentions.

Bringing the new army to Jeju was far more than simply seizing horses—this was also the new army's first trial by blood and fire.

"Someone come!" Lei Sanxiang shouted loudly. "Pass my order: set up an artillery position on the high ground at the northwest corner of Jeju City, and blast those rats out of their holes!"

Yahei

Yuan

Pen