Chapter 287: Taking Mire Mountain with Skirmish Tactics

On the plank-roofed vessel, the naval commander of the water camp saw a signal flare rise behind the fleet and immediately sensed disaster.

He shouted at once: "Sound the retreat! Quickly!"

The signalman struck the bronze gong with frantic speed—clang, clang, clang—the sound spreading across the sea.

The entire Li dynasty fleet numbered over eighty vessels, and merely passing the order across the water took a long while. By the time the fleet had turned around one after another, its formation had become scattered and ragged.

And their path of retreat had already been cut off by a fleet that had rounded the island from behind.

The lookout's voice trembled: "Due north—a fleet appears! Three large gun ships, fifteen small craft!"

The numbers sounded small, but the moment he saw the enemy vessels' tonnage, the commander's heart sank halfway.

The Lingcang's three ships were already behemoths to the Li dynasty vessels, but the three newly appeared large gun ships were impossibly bigger still—one alone was nearly the size of two plank-roofed vessels, and the density of their broadside gunports was enough to make one's scalp crawl.

"Head west! Into the reef zone!" the commander shouted at the top of his lungs.

The sailors strained at the helm and sails. While they were still turning, the Zhulong had already led the Yunming and Xingming into within three hundred paces. Aboard the Zhulong, the lookout called out: "The enemy fleet is moving northwest."

Bai Qing said: "Cut them off. Fire while underway!"

The helmsman bellowed: "Course due west—open fire!"

On the gun deck, the gunnery officer had barely gotten out the word "fire" before the rest of his sentence was swallowed by the thunder of cannon.

The Yunming and Xingming, two fourth-rate ships, each carried fifty cannon. Counting the Zhulong's firepower, a single volley from the three ships put eighty-two broadside guns into action, hammering solid iron shot into the dense pattern of grapeshot.

In an instant, waterspouts erupted all around the Li dynasty warships—screams and the sound of impacts rang through the entire fleet.

It was the two fourth-rate ships' first formal naval engagement, and their rate of fire, accuracy, and stability were a cut above even the Tianyuan and Zhenghe. After all, the Tianyuan and Zhenghe, in terms of hull design, belonged to the galleon category—not purpose-built for naval gunnery, still bearing the shadow of armed merchantmen.

The ship of the line, represented by the Zhulong, was a pure gun platform, designed specifically for naval combat—storage space and comfort all yielded to structural strength and firepower density.

One could say that to cram the greatest number of cannon into a limited hull, the ship of the line sacrificed nearly everything, including maneuverability.

Even if the Tianyuan and the Yunming were to exchange broadsides, the former would hardly be a match—let alone these Li dynasty warships?

Aboard the Lingcang, Bailangzai said: "Turn about—we'll open fire from the other side."

"Aye!" the helmsman ordered: "Hard to starboard, course northwest!"

Compared to ships of the line, the cruising frigate represented by the Lingcang had far better maneuverability—responsive turning, higher speed.

The design intent of such a frigate was to strike a balance across firepower, maneuverability, endurance, and protection, making each ship an independent combat unit, capable of carrying out commerce-raiding operations alone on the open sea.

So the shallow waters the Zhulong's three ships could not enter were left to the frigates, and the task of luring the enemy also fell to the frigates.

Now the task of blocking the enemy's retreat naturally went to the frigates as well.

Seen from above, the entire sea area held three fleets. The Li dynasty fleet was caught between the Nan'ao fleets to the south and north, pounded by a full one hundred and forty-two cannon in a thunderous barrage that shook heaven and earth.

Caught in the middle, the Li dynasty fleet was beaten like a sandbag, utterly unable to fight back.

Poor Li dynasty men—their last naval opponent had been the Japanese pirates of the Imjin War, who fought primarily by boarding; now their next naval opponent was Nan'ao, blasting them with line-of-battle gunnery. The gap in naval doctrine between the two sides had crossed who knows how many generations, forming a generational chasm. Besides covering their heads and fleeing, there was truly nothing they could do. At this moment, the scout boat sent by the naval commissioner had just reached the mouth of the channel, and the moment its crew looked out, they saw this scene.

The signalman aboard froze in shock. The sky above was bright with a blazing sun, yet the sea surface was shrouded in a layer of smoke, the stench of sulfur boring into one's lungs. Through the haze came deafening cannon fire, so loud that soldiers aboard the scout boat had to shout to hear each other face to face. Along the battle track, the sea was strewn with shattered planks and corpses, while five or six escort vessels were slowly sinking and two plank-roofed vessels burned with towering flames—through the firelight, gaping holes in their hulls were visible, a horrifying sight.

The soldiers on the scout boat watched for a while, felt their hearts turn cold, and turned back to report to camp.

On the battlefield, the Zhulong's line of battle to the north drew ever closer, its gunnery growing ever more precise.

To avoid friendly fire, Bailangzai ordered the Lingcang's three ships to cease firing, pull back their distance, and race ahead at full speed to seal the enemy in.

The frigates were far faster than the Li dynasty oar-and-sail vessels—in less than an hour, they had sailed ahead of the Li dynasty fleet.

From the start of the engagement, Li dynasty ships had been lowering sails and raising white flags to surrender one after another.

And with their escape route severed, the officers of the Li dynasty warships were utterly disheartened and surrendered one by one.

At this point their fleet still had over fifty vessels, all lowering sails and surrendering at once—a rather spectacular sight.

From the very start of the battle, the Li dynasty fleet had first been arrogant and contemptuous, then foolishly fell for the ruse, then collapsed off a cliff, and finally surrendered across the board.

The scene was almost exactly the same as the Yichou Rebellion.

From Bailangzai's luring of the enemy to now, barely half a day had passed; from the ships of the line joining the fight to now, less than two hours had been used.

For a major battle involving nearly a hundred vessels, this could truly be called a swift victory.

Bai Qing ordered the surrendered Li dynasty soldiers and ships gathered together, to be temporarily housed on Jeju Island, then had Wang Ruzhong lead the marines ashore at Maitreya Mountain. A green signal flare burst across the sky.

Aboard Shark Boat No. 1, Wang Ruzhong saw the flare and ordered the shark boats to emerge from their hiding place and sail northwest.

The suitable landing points on Maitreya Mountain had long since been scouted by the eagle boats.

An hour later, five shark boats reached their designated positions, lowered centipede boats, and ferried the marines to shore.

Maitreya Mountain was a stone's throw from the Toulongpu water camp, and the mountain even had water-camp cannon—it was a vital point that should have been heavily garrisoned.

But now the main force of the Toulongpu naval division had been wiped out, and the sea could no longer be guarded.

Upon learning the devastating news, the water camp fell into chaos; even the meager army troops were gripped with terror, the entire camp in a boiling mess.

So it was that the marines landed smoothly, crossed several ridgelines, and the marine vanguard circled around to directly behind the Maitreya Mountain cannon.

"Platoon leader—twelve cannon, over three hundred enemy troops."

In the woods on the ridge, a marine lowered his telescope and reported.

The marine vanguard was only a single platoon. Its leader was named Xiong Wu, nicknamed "Xiong Beizi," a graduate of the second class of the Nan'ao Naval Academy. He earned the nickname because the academy had a tradition of building courage among new cadets—sending them to copy tombstone inscriptions in a graveyard at midnight. Xiong Wu was illiterate and also suffered from night blindness; unable to see in the dark, he simply carried an entire tombstone back and asked the squad leader if this was what he wanted.

From then on, Xiong Wu became famous among the second-class cadets and earned the nickname "Xiong Beizi."

This time serving as the vanguard, Xiong Beizi's platoon had over 150 men, tasked with reconnaissance and pathfinding. After scouting, they were supposed to hold their position and report to the main force behind them, then join up to annihilate the enemy together.

But Xiong Beizi saw that those Li dynasty soldiers were in scattered formation, shouting and yelling, faces full of panic, and their cannon were heavy and cumbersome, hard to move—a perfect opportunity for a rear attack.

It was already near dusk, and waiting for the marine main force to arrive would inevitably squander the opportunity.

Xiong Beizi first sent a signalman to relay word to the main force behind, then gritted his teeth and took the initiative on his own authority: "Everyone spread out, find cover, and wait for my order!"

"Aye!" His squad leaders' eyes gleamed, and they dispersed into the woods with their men.

While his men scattered to find cover, Xiong Beizi ran his hand over his Fozi-made Type 01 flintlock musket. Compared to matchlocks, a flintlock could be loaded with powder before engaging, without fear of the match cord igniting it—raise the gun and fire when the enemy appeared.

Moreover, the flintlock was simple to load and highly safe, while pure linear tactics were also rigid and ill-suited to complex terrain.

In light of this, Nan'ao developed skirmisher tactics.

In simple terms, the formation dispersed, each man finding his own cover and firing freely.

This tactic placed high demands on both personnel and weapons, which was why the Nan'ao army had only studied and drilled it, never yet using it in actual combat.

As a second-term military academy cadet, Xiong Beizi had received the most cutting-edge military education and naturally knew this style of warfare well. During his time at the academy, he had even conducted several drills under the organization of Instructor Sun Yu, and it could be said he had skirmish tactics down cold.

The Ninth Banner Company of the Nan'ao Marines under his command was also an elite unit of the Marine Corps, already trained in skirmish tactics.

Today's terrain, opponents, and the situation between friend and foe made this the perfect proving ground for skirmish tactics, and Xiong Beizi was truly unwilling to let the opportunity pass.

He looked left and right, seeing his men already in position behind trees, rocks, and clumps of grass, spread out to either side.

Xiong Beizi took a deep breath, steadied his mind, and raised his musket to aim at a man who looked like an officer.

Seeing Xiong Beizi's movement, the surrounding soldiers all raised their muskets as well.

Xiong Beizi cocked the hammer and pulled the trigger. The hammer fell instantly, the Qingzhou flint scraping against the frizzen and throwing off a chain of sparks that landed squarely in the powder pan. Then came a sharp hiss—the black powder in the pan ignited, bursting forth in a cloud of smoke and a flash of light.

The black powder in the barrel was ignited, exploding and burning within the barrel, driving the bullet out of the muzzle at tremendous speed.

A burst of flame erupted from the muzzle. Through the gunsmoke, Xiong Beizi saw a splash of bright red burst from the officer's back, and the man toppled straight over as if struck by a heavy hammer.

Before the artillerymen could even react, gunfire in the woods had already merged into a continuous roar.

Xiong Beizi tore open a paper cartridge with his teeth, poured a small amount of powder into the pan, then dumped the rest down the barrel. Finally he rammed the remaining paper wadding along with the bullet into the barrel and packed it down with the ramrod.

Having done all this, he raised his musket to aim and saw that a dozen or more corpses lay scattered every which way around the cannon. Some of the enemy were shouting wildly and looking around in panic, while others had simply hidden inside the barracks.

Five or six Joseon soldiers, driven by the shouts of an officer, were laboriously trying to move the cannon.

That cannon was a muzzle-loading smoothbore of Joseon's own casting, called the Heaven-Character Bronze Tube. Made entirely of bronze, it was about six chi long with a thick, heavy barrel weighing over two thousand jin, and it packed considerable power.

This type of cannon had also been cast by Joseon during the Imjin War. Over thirty years ago it had been a top-tier artillery piece, and in range and power it could even outdo the Folangji cannon.

But its barrel was thick and its caliber-to-length ratio unreasonable, making the gun tube extraordinarily heavy and the process of turning its aim extremely slow.

Xiong Beizi's eye was quick and his hand faster—he pulled the trigger and fired. With a bang, a Joseon gunner took a hit to the shoulder, half his arm ruined, a mist of blood bursting out as the lead ball dragged him to the ground, where he writhed and screamed.

The Heaven-Character Bronze Tube also rang out with several clangs as sparks flew—those were the flintlock's buckshot.

Flintlock muskets were all smoothbores, with somewhat inferior accuracy.

So to make up for this shortcoming, each round consisted of one single ball plus five small buckshot pellets. The official military designation for this ammunition was composite buckshot, but the soldiers commonly called it "mother-son buckshot," and it was issued specifically for skirmish tactics.

When one round of mother-son buckshot went off, the mother ball flew straight while the son pellets spread in a pattern—no matter how poor your aim, you were bound to hit something.

What had just struck the Heaven-Character Bronze Tube were the son pellets.

After firing his shot, Xiong Beizi had no time to check the results. He ducked his head and quickly reloaded. The Nan'ao army stressed starting from the grassroots—if you wanted to be an officer, your personal military proficiency had to be solid. Not necessarily the bravest of the brave, but at least at an excellent level.

So Xiong Beizi's reloading speed was much quicker than that of an ordinary soldier. In just seventeen seconds, he had finished loading and raised his musket to aim.

At this moment, the gun crew moving the Heaven-Character Bronze Tube was still stubbornly trying to shift the cannon. The soldiers were scared out of their wits and were howling to bolster their own courage.

Xiong Beizi could already see half of the dark, gaping muzzle. He raised his hand and fired again.

A Joseon soldier took a hit to the head. A mist of blood burst into the air, and the stricken soldier reeled backward as if a war hammer had smashed into his skull, red and white matter flying back along with a chunk of his skullcap.

Xiong Beizi's position was roughly fifty paces from the artillery position—right at the optimal range for mother-son buckshot—so he could hit almost anything he aimed at, with a very high hit rate.

Added to that, during marksmanship training at the military academy, Xiong Beizi had been fed no fewer than five hundred rounds of ammunition, so his shooting was accurate.

This was his first real combat, and with a new tactic to boot—far from being afraid, he was so fired up that he performed beyond his usual level, taking out three enemies with three shots!

On the artillery position, the Joseon gun crew saw another man fall and were scared out of their wits, wailing and crying for their mothers as they fled in rout down the mountain.

By now some of the routed soldiers had already reached the shore and jumped straight into the sea, swimming toward the Toulongpu naval port on the opposite side.

At its widest, this stretch of water was less than eight hundred paces—well within the range a man could swim across under his own power.

After several more rounds of firing, seeing that the fleeing soldiers were growing ever more numerous, Xiong Beizi directly drew his bayonet, attached it to the muzzle in one smooth motion, and shouted: "Brothers, charge with me!"

The words had barely left his mouth when Xiong Beizi burst out from his hiding spot at the front, moving fast, covering more than ten paces in a single breath.

The warriors of the entire banner company were stunned for a moment, then enormously inspired, erupting in a thunderous battle cry as they charged out with the momentum of tigers descending the mountain.

Because bayonets reflected light, and fighting in the dense forest made them liable to snag on branches, the bayonets had not been fixed beforehand.

Some soldiers, in their excitement, failed to attach their bayonets after a few tries, so they simply stowed them away and charged out carrying their muskets bare.

Since the start of the battle, the marines had each fired only a dozen or so rounds, so their barrels were merely warm, nowhere near hot enough to burn. The soldiers who hadn't managed to fix their bayonets simply grabbed their muskets by the barrel and swung the flintlocks like clubs.

For a moment, the entire area around the cannon was filled with battle cries, with curses invoking mothers and grandmothers merging into a single din.

The Joseon soldiers' morale had completely collapsed—there was virtually no resistance at all. And the marines, not bothering with any formation, charged and struck with reckless ferocity, which only made the Joseon soldiers rout even faster.

In no more than the time it takes to burn one stick of incense, the marines had chased the enemy all the way from the cannon to the seaside.

A great many Joseon soldiers who hadn't managed to jump into the sea and escape were caught like dumplings in a wrapper, surrounded by a forest of gleaming bayonets.

"Kneel! Drop your weapons! Hands on your heads!"

"Kneel now!"

Before the battle, Wang Ruzhong had never imagined the enemy would be so feeble, so he hadn't arranged for any Joseon language training. Thus the marines were all shouting in Chinese. But their ferocious expressions, combined with the threat of a musket butt to the face for anyone who didn't comply, got the message across to the Joseon prisoners, who all hurriedly obeyed. By the time Wang Ruzhong arrived with the five hundred main-force marines, the entire Mireuk-san artillery position was already cleaning up the battlefield.

The Joseon prisoners squatted in a corner like chicks, watched over by more than twenty soldiers with fixed bayonets.

The remaining soldiers were tending to the wounded, while others counted the captured supplies—everything in orderly fashion.

Wang Ruzhong called Xiong Beizi over and asked: "You're done fighting?"

"Reporting to the general—done!"

"What are the casualties and kills?"

"Our side has three lightly wounded. We captured one hundred thirty-five enemy soldiers, killed or wounded eighty-eight, and the rest fled to the opposite shore.

We've seized six Heaven-Character Bronze Tubes and six Earth-Character Bronze Tubes. The remaining bird-gun muskets, sabers, spears, bows, arrows, and armor are still being tallied." "Good lad, you've really got it!" Wang Ruzhong broke into a smile and patted Xiong Beizi on the arm.

By now it was evening. Wang Ruzhong had the artillerymen operate the Heaven-Character Bronze Tubes to bombard the Joseon naval camp across the water.

Heavy as they were, these Heaven-Character Bronze Tubes packed no small punch. They fired roughly four-pound shot, and their range just happened to cover the Joseon naval camp on the opposite shore. Toulongpu Naval Port was garrisoned by the elite of Joseon's three-province navy—back when General Yi Sun-sin was still alive, it had been one of the finest naval forces in all of East Asia.

Of course, if you asked the Joseon themselves, they considered themselves invincible in coastal waters.

And yet this "invincible fleet" was being used by Nan'ao as a test subject for new ships and new tactics.

The elite naval force was lured out to battle and annihilated to the last man.

The shore batteries were taken by a single vanguard banner company with almost no casualties.

Now even the cannons on the fortifications were being turned against their own side.

The Naval Commander of Toulongpu nearly vomited blood from rage. After enduring an entire night of bombardment, he stepped out of his tent to find that the few remaining troops had almost all fled. The enemy ships, rowing their centipede boats, swaggered over and set fire to the surviving warships one by one as they cowered in the harbor.

The Naval Commander ground his teeth nearly to powder, his vision darkening before his eyes, and shouted to those around him: "Defend! Defend!"

But no one listened to him. The surrounding soldiers either scattered to save themselves or tried to drag the Naval Commander along in their flight.

By all rights, the Joseon court had seen no major war since the Imjin Japanese invasions, and the entire realm—court and countryside alike—had grown soft and complacent, military preparedness neglected. But even neglected, they should not have been this weak. During the Eulchuk Barbarian Disturbance, Joseon troops had fought back bravely, only to be crushed head-on by the Jianzhou iron cavalry, learning all too well what it meant to throw an egg against a rock, what it meant for a thin arm to try to twist a thick thigh.

The two Joseon princes were taken captive to Shenyang as hostages by Hong Taiji.

From the four northern provinces, over four hundred thousand common people were carried off.

At Uiju, Anju, and two other places, more than a hundred thousand soldiers and civilians were slaughtered.

Countless patriots of resolve were killed, and vast quantities of gold, silver, rice, and other wealth were plundered.

Joseon's long-held pride in calling itself "Little China" was utterly shattered.

From that time on, the entire Joseon court suffered from a fear of the Jin—they had truly been scared out of their wits.

This was also why a seemingly extreme faction like the "Righteous Principle Faction" existed in their court—because Joseon's backbone had been broken by the Jianzhou barbarians, and they had to prop the nation back up with so-called righteous principle.

And however strong the Jianzhou barbarians were on land, Nan'ao was just as strong at sea. Indeed, in the battle at Toulongpu, that irresistible, crushing momentum even surpassed the Jianzhou iron cavalry.

The Jianzhou barbarians often made up for insufficient force with slaughter, combining beatings with intimidation to make people submit.

But Nan'ao delivered precise strikes devoid of any emotion—scientific warfare. When they could win quickly, they never dragged things out; when they could crush, they never wasted effort; when they could bombard, they never resorted to bayonets. They left their opponents unable even to see their faces, with no time to speak their last words.

This style of warfare, on first contact, did not seem like much—but after a few exchanges, it felt increasingly cold and terrifying.

Take the Naval Commander of Toulongpu, for example. To this very moment, he did not know who his enemy was, nor why he had been attacked.

He had only just figured out that the enemy was not the red barbarians but a group of Han Chinese speaking the Han tongue, when the next moment his entire naval camp fell apart. Faced with such a towering blaze, the Naval Commander felt both grief and helplessness. After a long sigh to heaven, he could only flee with his personal guards.

Just as he was about to mount his horse, a subordinate suddenly said: "Sir, look! The enemy is retreating!"

The Naval Commander turned to look, and saw that by the docks the warships had already turned into a roaring sea of fire. The enemy had not spared a single vessel—they had even set fire to the sampans and the gangplanks.

But the good news was that the enemy had indeed dispersed and withdrawn.

A dozen or so centipede boats were rowing toward Mireuksan, while the larger transport ships were also busy loading prisoners and plunder—even the artillery positions on the opposite shore had been left unguarded.

The Naval Commander racked his brains but could not fathom what scheme or trick this was. Why would they abandon hard-won territory so readily? Could it be that the enemy was not after land at all, but had come purely to vent their anger?

Which damned soul had offended these living ancestors?

The Naval Commander dismounted and stayed in the naval camp until nightfall, utterly baffled. Only after repeatedly confirming that the enemy had dispersed did he send his personal guards to retake the lost ground at Mireuksan. Of course, since all the ships had been destroyed, the guards swam over to the island.

The guards surveyed the empty positions, then searched all of Mireuksan, before swimming back to report.

Overjoyed at the news, the Naval Commander hastily wrote a battle report and sent news of victory to the court. Though the battle had cost him troops and officers, at least he had driven off the enemy—Joseon had not lost a single city or an inch of ground. How could that not count as a victory?

Meanwhile, in the conference room of the Candragon, Wang Ruzhong reported on the battle situation.

Bai Qing's finger traced across the sea chart and stopped at Jeolla Province: "The next battle is here."

Meng Tingchuan asked in confusion: "We fought hard to take Toulongpu, then abandoned it for nothing, and now we're going to attack the Yeosu naval camp in Jeolla? Why?"

Wang Ruzhong glanced at him and said: "Land-war thinking."

Bailangzai nodded: "Indeed, land-war thinking."

Meng Tingchuan was completely baffled.

Bai Qing explained: "The Helmsman said the main fleet cannot stay anchored in nearby waters forever. There will always come a time when we must return to port, and if the Joseon fleet attacks then, we may be too late to rescue. So our mission is to destroy the Joseon navy and eliminate any future threat at sea."

Wang Ruzhong said: "The Helmsman also said that Joseon currently regards the Great Ming as its father-lord state and stubbornly refuses to send its navy to support the Jianzhou barbarians.

But under the threat of superior force, the Joseon people cannot hold out for long either. If these naval forces are left alone, one day they will aid the enemy.

Since that is the case, we might as well dispose of them for Joseon, so they need not be caught in such a dilemma."

In history, the Jianzhou barbarians conquered Joseon twice. The first time, they pretended to be courteous, calling each other brother states. Joseon paid lip service while secretly continuing to help the Great Ming and trading with Pidao.

This enraged Hong Taiji, who launched a second invasion and thoroughly subjugated Joseon, signing a treaty that made the Great Qing and Joseon a father-son relationship. By the tenth year of Chongzhen, when Hong Taiji sent troops against Dongjiang, Joseon was forced to contribute fifty panokseon warships and several thousand naval soldiers, helping shatter the Great Ming's Dongjiang defense line in one stroke.

Later, during the Songjin Campaign, the Joseon navy again undertook tasks of naval blockade, grain transport, and commerce-raiding operations.

Though Joseon subjectively did not wish to be an enemy of the Great Ming, objectively they had indeed aided the tyrant in his evil.

When Lin Qian had taken Jeju Island earlier, he had not eliminated this hidden danger because he had not yet formally raised his banner. Attacking a tributary state of the Great Ming under the identity of a Ming general would have lacked justification, and would have smacked of punishing without first instructing. Moreover, his limited naval warships were needed for the attack on Guangdong.

Now that Lin Qian had freed up his hands, he had sent envoys to politely and reasonably offer to help Joseon resist the Jin—but the fools at their court did not appreciate it. So Nan'ao could hardly be blamed for striking hard. Meng Tingchuan added: "Compared to Toulongpu, the Jeolla naval camp is nothing worth mentioning. After we take it, what then? If we don't seize something, I always feel empty inside, like we came all this way for nothing."

"Who said we want nothing?"

As Bai Qing spoke, his finger tapped two spots on the sea chart.

Meng Tingchuan was taken aback: "Huh? The Helmsman wants Gyo Island and Pidao?"

Pen