Chapter 348: Lead Shot Stir-Fried Pork, Wolves Among Sheep

Qin Liangyu looked toward the northwest, where a towering cloud of dust rose into the sky. Within that dust, Sha Dingzhou's cavalry could be faintly seen deployed along both sides of the official road, charging south, aimed directly at the Xia army's left flank.

At this moment, the army was half-crossed, the formation not yet fully deployed, and the main force's left flank was indeed lacking protection.

Yet Qin Liangyu remained unmoved, withdrawing her gaze—such a simple formation adjustment required no order from her.

On the main force's left flank, Ma Xianglin spotted the cavalry from afar and shouted, "Protect the left flank! Form up along the river!"

At this time, Li Achu's ten thousand Luoluo soldiers were suffering repeated volleys of gun and cannon fire, already showing signs of collapse, their assault slowing.

The main force now had room to adjust its formation. You Shunfa received the order and immediately said to the messenger: "Order the Third and Fourth Companies to move to the left flank and fill the gap between the left flank and the riverbank."

The messenger galloped off with the word, and the Third and Fourth Companies, serving as reserves, hurried toward the breach at a fast march.

The two companies quickly reached their positions, formed into line, and sealed the gap.

At this time, the Xia army stood with their backs to the Lu River in formation, their front entirely composed of new army line infantry, while their flanks and rear were guarded by the Lu River—the whole formation resembled a hollow square, with not a single opening left.

And the line from south of the city to Lengshui Beach lay entirely within the control range of the Xia army's center and left flank—even if Sha Dingzhou's cavalry wanted to cross the river, they could not. Sha Dingzhou's cavalry hugged the hills and ridges to the west and the official road, advancing from Li Achu's right flank, straight toward the Xia army's left.

As the mass of cavalry gradually drew near, the hoofbeats of several thousand warhorses converged into one, like muffled thunder. The sound came from far to near, like countless heavy hammers striking the ground simultaneously. Within three li, the very earth trembled without cease, shaking until men's soles went numb, and the howls of the Luoluo cavalry rose like mountains collapsing and seas roaring. Such momentum was utterly terrifying—like several thousand red-nosed heavy trucks, horns blaring, throttles floored, charging straight at a man.

This intimidation far surpassed volley fire or cannonade. An ordinary man facing such a wall of cavalry—if his legs didn't give out, he was already braver than most; standing rooted in place was absolutely impossible. After the Third and Fourth Companies of the Fourth Battalion had gone to fill the gap, Wei Wenkui's Donglan Wolf Soldiers served as reserves, standing behind the new army line infantry.

Seeing the spectacle of several thousand cavalry thundering toward them, even the Wolf Soldiers' formation began to waver, and it took Wei Wenkui riding back and forth constantly to keep the ranks from breaking. And this was with two rows of new army line infantry propping them up from the front—without those two rows, they would likely have turned and fled by now.

There was no helping it—infantry's fear of cavalry was carved into their very bones. Even knowing the cavalry dared not charge into a wall of bayonets, they still could not help but flinch. If such fear were so easily overcome, Qi Jiguang would never have needed to research his side-shield carts—he could simply have had infantry hold the front line directly. When the cavalry closed to within one li, the hoofbeats drowned out every other sound; everyone's ears rang without cease, and even the cannon fire from Phoenix Ridge was swallowed up.

At this distance, the faces of the Sha cavalry were clearly visible. They crouched low over their horses' backs, clutching javelins and long spears, black or blue turbans fluttering in the wind, sunlight glinting off their sabers in cold, icy flashes.

A moment later, a blaze of fire ran along the line infantry's front—over a hundred tiger-crouch cannons on the left flank fired all at once, forming a fan-shaped storm zone of lead shot two or three li wide. Dian horses had thin hides and brittle bones; a single lead pellet could shatter a horse's leg or punch through its belly.

The cavalry charging in the lead were instantly devoured by the lead shot. Over a hundred warhorses crashed to the ground with shrill, agonized screams; riders were flung seven or eight paces away, some snapping their necks on impact and dying on the spot, others with broken legs or arms, unable to rise, trampled into pulp by the surging horses behind them.

This utterly miserable scene meant nothing to the several thousand cavalry—but seeing the enemy thrown into chaos greatly lifted the Xia army's morale. Seizing the moment, the company commanders of the Fourth Battalion shouted in unison: "Raise arms!"

The soldiers leveled their muskets, muzzles aimed at the approaching cavalry. At this distance, against such a large target, aiming was no longer necessary. "Fire!" The company commander roared.

The entire line of the Fourth Battalion erupted in firelight and white smoke.

A full row of lead bullets screamed through the air, and the galloping cavalry fell before the sound—another layer of them dead.

Then the second row of soldiers thrust their muskets over the shoulders of the men in front, and another volley crashed out. Dense lead shot hammered into the cavalry like rain. The front-rank riders were struck and fell, men and horses dying in heaps—the effect was far more shocking than shooting infantry.

The surviving cavalry leaped over their comrades' corpses and finally reached the line infantry's front, roughly ten paces out. Using their horses' momentum, they hurled their javelins. The force behind each javelin was tremendous—a new army soldier took one in the chest, the javelin punching clean through his body and pinning him to the ground, blood gushing from the wound like a spring.

But the Sha cavalry had already lost many men to the hail of gun and cannon fire, and on this chaotic battlefield, those who survived and could still throw a javelin accurately were few indeed. A single round of javelins had barely any effect on the new army's entire line.

After hurling their javelins, the Sha cavalry did not press the charge. Instead they wheeled left and right, shouting wildly, occasionally feinting a charge before being driven back by volley fire and bayonets.

On the other side, Ma Xianglin, mounted on his horse, also observed the Sha cavalry's tactics. They appeared to be charging recklessly without any pattern, but in truth, the harassing cavalry and the main force were separated by a great distance.

The harassing cavalry would charge to the line, hurl javelins and bolts, then gallop left and right, searching for a breach in the enemy formation, before the entire force surged in together to shatter the enemy. Dian horses were too short and lacked the charging power to break a line directly—they could only use this harass-then-charge method.

Unfortunately, Sha Dingzhou had learned his craft poorly; his soldiers' formations were atrocious. And while Dian horses had great endurance, they were slower than Mongol horses. Yunnan was hot and humid, the chieftains had no powerful bows or crossbows, and javelins were terribly inefficient at killing.

In the end, the cavalry's effectiveness could not compare with the Mongols or the Jianzhou barbarians—they were even far inferior to the Ming armies of the Nine Borders.

And the Great Xia flintlocks loaded quickly, were accurate, packed tremendous power, and with bayonets attached, they had no fear of close combat. In discipline, morale, and training alike, they were top-notch—they could not be scared off.

Sha Dingzhou, using half-learned tactics stolen from others, tried to smash a hole in the Great Xia iron army—he truly had lard clouding his heart.

But even though he held the enemy in contempt, to be absolutely safe, Ma Xianglin still had Wei Wenkui's Wolf Soldiers form up behind the new army, ready to plug any gap should one actually be broken through.

As the Sha cavalry launched wave after wave of small-scale charges, the Great Xia army suffered only negligible casualties. The soldiers instead grew more confident with each exchange, their fear draining away as they raised their muskets and fired as if shooting at targets.

This place was too far from Phoenix Ridge for the heavy artillery to provide support, but the flintlocks and tiger-crouch cannons fired without pause, forcing the Sha soldiers to pay a heavy price in every single charge.

Through long training and combat, the Great Xia army—from officers to line infantry—had long since fused the rhythm of volley fire into their very blood. The two rows fired in alternating rotation, cycling without cease, with none of the obvious loading pauses that plagued matchlock musketeers.

The new army's Fourth Battalion operated like the waterwheel machinery of the Bachijiang River—precisely, ceaselessly, until even their gun barrels glowed hot. On the north bank of the Lu River, before the line infantry, corpses of men and horses piled up across the ground, covering vast stretches of dry land like a carpet of flesh and blood laid over the earth. The first wave of harassing cavalry was soon decimated; Sha Dingzhou could only keep feeding in fresh troops, and the cavalry charging in subsequent waves even tripped over their own dead, making their formation even more ragged and sparse.

After several more exchanges of fire, Sha Dingzhou could see that continuing to charge like this would not work. He ordered an all-or-nothing gamble—a main-force charge. The bronze drum's rhythm changed, becoming tight and fierce.

The Sha cavalry ceased their rotating harassment and concentrated their forces in a desperate rush at the Xia army.

After several rounds of javelin rain, the Xia army had also suffered light casualties, and gaps had appeared in their formation. The Sha cavalry chose the moment when the tiger-crouch cannons were reloading to charge hard at several of those gaps.

On horseback, the Sha soldiers brandished their weapons, shouting wildly, their momentum terrifying, trying to cow the Xia army into retreat.

But within the line infantry's formation, everyone waited in silence—only the sound of gunfire and the company commanders' orders could be heard.

"Raise arms!"

Along a battle line three or four li wide, commands rose and fell one after another. The soldiers' right shoulders had long since gone numb and sore from recoil, yet at the order they still pressed their musket stocks against their shoulders without a moment's hesitation, muzzles aimed at the line of charging cavalry.

A volley crashed out, and the cavalry in the lead seemed to have tripped an invisible tripwire—men and horses tumbled in a heap, an entire swath falling at once.

Then a second volley—another swath fell.

At the same time, the lead cavalry had already reached the line infantry's front. The Dian horses, faced with gleaming triangular bayonets, screamed in terror and refused to advance no matter how their riders urged them on.

A few bold Sha cavalrymen did charge into the gaps between the flag companies, swinging their Husa sabers left and right—only to be surrounded by the Donglan Wolf Soldiers and stabbed into pincushions.

The Sha cavalry's formation was too disordered, and with the battlefield littered with corpses of men and horses serving as obstacles, this charge came in ragged and sparse.

The cavalry in front were already locked in bayonet combat with the Xia army, while those in the rear had only covered half the distance, their horses' speed not yet built up.

This left the cavalry actually making contact at an absolute numerical disadvantage—each rider faced five or six, even a dozen or more bayonets.

Facing an impenetrable wall of bayonets, the cavalry couldn't even fight—their eyes were nearly dazzled blind.

The front-line cavalry contact lasted barely a moment before the entire line collapsed and routed to the rear.

Ma Xianglin was overjoyed and roared behind him: "Send word to Wei Wenkui—release the Donglan Wolf Soldiers to bite them!"

Wei Wenkui had long since spotted the opportunity—now was the perfect moment to charge. In the past, fighting alongside the Ming army, even without orders, with such a golden opportunity he would not have hesitated to lead his men in.

But having traveled the whole way with the Xia army, he knew well how strictly they enforced military orders. Without the command, he truly dared not act on his own. It wasn't just him—even the guoxia horse beneath him was pawing the ground restlessly with its hooves.

Behind him, five hundred Wolf Cavalry were howling for battle, their voices loud enough to punch a hole through the sky.

At last, the messenger galloped up.

Wei Wenkui drew his blade and shouted: "Charge! Kill with your old man, and kill hard!"

He gave his reins a violent snap, clamped his legs tight, and led the way. The gaps between the new army's flag companies happened to form the perfect passage for the Wolf Cavalry to exit the formation. The Sha cavalry had fought bitterly for a long time—their horses were spent, their edge was gone—while the Wolf Cavalry had remained in place from start to finish, husbanding their strength. After watching nearly an hour of lead-shot stir-fried pork, their blood was already boiling. The moment they burst forth, it was like wolves descending upon a flock of sheep—a great slaughter, the scene bloody beyond measure.

The corpses of men and horses, broken weapons, and scattered saddles left over from the earlier fighting—when charging, the Sha soldiers could still steer their horses around them, but now, fleeing in panic with their heads in their hands, they all became deadly traps.

Masses of war horses were tripped by the corpses, their riders thrown to the ground—before they could even get up, the wolf cavalry cut them down with a single stroke.

Some Sha soldiers fled in panic, charging into the irrigation ditches between the fields, where their horses sank into the mud and could not move, forcing them to dismount and flee on foot. Others did not even bother retreating to their own lines—they simply ran for the hills to the west.

For a time, the entire battlefield was filled with screams and wails, along with the wanton slaughter carried out by Wei Wenkui's cavalry.

In the center of the allied army, Sha Dingzhou witnessed this scene and flew into a towering rage, bellowing: "Worthless! Idle pigs who eat without earning their keep! The enemy's formation is only two ranks deep, thin as paper, and you still couldn't break through! You all deserve death!"

As he spoke, he spurred his horse forward, ignoring his subordinates' attempts to stop him, leading his personal guards to meet the enemy, his white-tiger banner advancing with him.

Sha Dingzhou's personal guards had not yet joined the fighting either, and though the wolf cavalry's pursuit had not lasted long, their kills were many—every man was drenched in blood, their hands so slick they could barely grip their sabers, and their formation had fallen into complete disarray.

When Wei Wenkui saw the white-tiger banner moving, he knew Sha Dingzhou was personally leading troops forward. Knowing that a hard fight now would certainly mean heavy losses, he ordered his men to sound the retreat. His wolf soldiers withdrew from the fighting one after another, falling back toward the new army's formation, and before long they returned through the gap to their own lines.

Seeing this, Sha Dingzhou could only swallow his anger, reining in his horse to gather his shattered troops. A quick count showed that nearly half of his men were dead or wounded.

This was his entire fortune!

In less than two hours, the casualties had become so grievous that Sha Dingzhou was nearly driven mad with rage. He ordered the three native officers who had lagged behind during the charge to be brought forward. "Kneel!" Sha Dingzhou drew his husa saber, grinding his teeth as he growled low. His face was flushed crimson, his expression utterly ferocious.

The three native officers, pressed to the ground by guards, wept and pleaded: "Regional Commander, I know I was wrong! Give me another chance—I want to die on the battlefield!"

"Regional Commander, Regional Commander, it was because there were too many corpses on the ground—truly, I didn't mean to—"

"Puchi!" The native officer was still speaking when Sha Dingzhou's saber came down. His neck was half severed, his spine cut clean through in two pieces, blood spurting like a fountain several feet into the air. He died in an instant.

The other two native officers, terrified nearly to the point of soiling themselves, kowtowed and begged for mercy without cease, but Sha Dingzhou dispatched them in the same manner.

Drenched crimson by the blood of the two men, Sha Dingzhou's fury abated somewhat, and he turned his gaze to the battlefield.

On the broad battlefield flanking the official road—about three li wide and two li long—corpses of Sha soldiers lay everywhere. Bodies of men and horses were piled layer upon layer, and the closer to the Xia army's formation, the denser the corpses became, some stacked half a man's height, forming a low wall.

The Sha people's distinctive blue cloth headwraps were scattered across the ground. Most of these men were the native sons of his own Sha clan, the very foundation his family had relied upon for generations—and now they were thrown away for nothing. His eyes flooded with blood, a roar stuck in his throat, his teeth clenched so tightly they might crack. He truly wished he could charge forward and bite Qin Liangyu and Ma Xianglin to death with his bare teeth!

On the eastern side of the battlefield, in the area near the Lu River, Li Achu's force, responsible for attacking the Xia army's front, could no longer hold and withdrew in turns. Fortunately, there was no cavalry pursuing them, so their retreat was relatively orderly.

But even after withdrawing, they left vast expanses of corpses on the ground. The bodies piled upon one another, forming undulating mounds of varying heights, turning what had been dry flatland into a rolling stretch of hills.

Such a scene of carnage would chill the blood of even the bravest man.

Soon a personal guard approached and bowed, saying: "Regional Commander, Chief Steward Bai has sent word—the casualties are too heavy, and he proposes we retreat."

"We cannot retreat!" Sha Dingzhou said. "I have not yet lost. Have Bai Cha reform the troops!"

"Regional Commander..." The officers around him all began to speak, trying to counsel him.

But Sha Dingzhou drew his saber and roared: "Reform the troops!"

On the other side, seeing the enemy temporarily withdraw, Qin Liangyu issued orders: "Send word to Chen Gensheng—the six battalions of the new army are to continue crossing the river, the artillery will cross afterward, and all units are to replenish ammunition and supplies."

The messenger galloped off with the orders, and before long the six battalions crossed the river in waves, filling into the right-wing positions according to the pre-battle plan.

Zhang Fengyi shaded his eyes with his hand and looked out across the army's eastern and western lines. He saw that the right wing and center, protected by the artillery fire from Phoenix Ridge, had suffered only light damage. But the four battalions on the left wing had been engaged along their entire front and subjected to repeated volleys of javelins and crossbow bolts, taking some casualties and leaving their formation looking especially thin. He could not help but say worriedly: "General, should we commit the reserve to fill in the left wing?"

The so-called reserve was, of course, Luo Daoqi's men—who, from the start of the battle until now, had been watching the scenery from Phoenix Ridge.

Qin Liangyu said calmly: "The reserve does not move."

The Sha-Pu allied army temporarily halted to rest and reform their lines, and the pressure on the Xia army eased. By now it was past noon. The soldiers had been fighting for nearly half a day, and the energy from breakfast had long been burned away—it was the perfect time to bring out the dry rations distributed that morning.

Since the enemy had not retreated, the formation naturally could not be allowed to fall into disorder, nor could the men sit down to eat. They had to eat one-handed while standing, and regardless of whether their stomachs were hungry or not, when the squad leader gave the order, every man had to stuff dry rations into his mouth frantically during that interval. This was required by military discipline—no exceptions.

Besides the sesame sugar sticks, each man also had dried meat and buckwheat cakes. For field rations in wartime, this was nothing short of a sumptuous feast.

After finishing their rations, the soldiers would drink water. Many experienced veterans took only small, careful sips, as if tasting fine tea, while others would hold the water in their mouths for a moment before spitting it out.

If a new recruit tilted his head back and gulped greedily, an old soldier would smack him on the head in reprimand.

On Phoenix Ridge, Luo Daoqi was also eating his lunch, but when he bit into his buckwheat cake and saw what the new army was doing, he was stunned.

His Nadi wolf soldiers could have an appetite for eating because they were on Phoenix Ridge, far from the battlefield—apart from the cannons being a bit noisy, it was no different from an outing.

What state was the Great Xia army in?

They had been fighting fiercely for nearly two hours. Before them lay mountains of corpses and seas of blood, surrounded by the stench of sulfur and gore—this was precisely the moment when a man's blood was at its most heated. How could they possibly eat?

It was like a bandit breaking into your home, saying he was going to kill your whole family. You barely managed to kill the bandit in return, your body still wet with blood, eyes red as you gasped for breath—and then your father suggests going out to a restaurant to celebrate. Who could possibly eat at a time like that?

Luo Daoqi had fought dozens of battles, large and small, and he knew that even veteran soldiers who had survived a hundred battles needed half an hour to recover their appetite after a bloody fight. But these new soldiers of the Great Xia army before him—they did not dodge the enemy's javelins and crossbow bolts, did not flinch when cavalry charged head-on. From the start of the battle until now, all they did was raise their guns, load, and pull the trigger, standing like wooden stakes without moving a single step. And in the intervals between fighting, they stood in place and ate their meals facing mountains of corpses and seas of blood. Were these even human? And most crucially—his Nadi wolf soldiers, under the Ming court, had been the absolute main force of field combat. The dirtiest, most exhausting, most dangerous work all fell to them. But under the Great Xia? On the march here, he had been assigned to escort the baggage train. If not for some blind fool named Li Yaxuan coming to throw his life away, he would have arrived without fighting a single battle. And now, at the decisive battle, he had been assigned to guard Phoenix Ridge.

Did that even count as guarding? Only when an enemy came to attack could it be called guarding. Right now he was simply watching the scenery!

And judging from the disposition of the two armies, it looked like he would be watching that scenery from start to finish.

The illustrious Nadi wolf soldiers, in the Great Xia army, had actually been used as a grain-transport team—not even qualified to make contact with the enemy. This was an absolute waste of heaven's gifts! Luo Daoqi wanted to roar, wanted to beg for battle, but thinking of General Qin's strict military discipline, he could only mutter to himself.

The Xia army's dry rations were quickly finished, and the Sha-Pu allied army showed no sign of movement for a long while. Qin Liangyu simply ordered the mortars, three-pounder cannons, and other heavy equipment to be transported across the river, and ordered each battalion to send out skirmishers to clear the corpses in front of their positions.

These corpses had originally been obstacles to the Sha-Pu allied army's advance, but piled so high, they had instead become cover on the enemy's path of attack—and they would also impede the Xia army's artillery mobility. They had to be moved, or at least a passage had to be cleared for the cannons to advance.

In Sha Dingzhou's eyes, this act was naked provocation—Qin Liangyu mocking him for lacking the courage to attack, smoothing the road for him.

Moreover, casually moving the corpses of Pu and Sha soldiers to pave the road was a tremendous desecration of the dead.

At this moment, Sha Dingzhou's men were resting and eating dry rations to recover their strength—not an ideal time to attack. But when he saw this scene, rage surged through him like boiling blood, smoke all but pouring from his seven orifices. His swarthy face flushed crimson with fury, then turned iron-gray.

He immediately drew his saber and said: "Qin Liangyu dares to insult the corpses of my people like this! Fight them to the death!"

Bai Cha stepped forward, speaking with deep concern: "Regional Commander, morale is wavering right now—this is absolutely not the time to give battle. We should cease fighting and rest for a while." Even in his towering rage, Sha Dingzhou had not lost his reason. He looked around and saw that morale was low, and many men bore wounds—indeed, they were in no condition to fight again. But if he retreated now, not only would his prestige be utterly destroyed, but absorbing Pu Mingsheng's forces would become impossible. And as the Xia army marched north, taking Ami Prefecture, taking the Buzhao Dam salt wells, then Fuxian Lake, all the way to Kunming—how could he possibly resist?

If he retreated, he might survive for three or five years, waging Mobile Corps Commander warfare against the Great Xia from the mountains and forests. But his ultimate fate would surely be annihilation by the Great Xia. Even if he, Sha Dingzhou, died in a blaze of glory on the battlefield, he would not live on in shameful survival.

Besides, he still had one secret card he had not yet played. Who would claim victory was still unknown.

Just then, a personal guard shouted: "Regional Commander, the enemy is advancing!"

Sha Dingzhou was momentarily startled, then looked toward the Xia army's formation. Sure enough, atop the mountain of corpses, a green line four or five li long was slowly moving forward. "Hahaha..." Sha Dingzhou burst into loud laughter.

Wu Bikui, Bai Cha, and the others nearby did not understand why. One of Sha Dingzhou's native chieftains asked: "What is the Regional Commander laughing at?"

Sha Dingzhou said with a smile on his face: "I laugh because Qin Liangyu does not know how to command troops! She arrayed her forces north of the river, relying on the natural barrier of the Lu River, holding both flanks secure—she had already placed herself in an unassailable position. But instead she insists on advancing recklessly, exposing her rear.

Her artillery is all deployed on Phoenix Ridge. Advancing rashly like this, her infantry and cannons are separated by the Lu River, unable to support each other—is that not utter stupidity?" Hearing this analysis, the officers all showed expressions of sudden realization, loudly praising the Regional Commander's keen insight.

But Bai Cha said bluntly, without the slightest courtesy: "Didn't the Regional Commander just personally lead troops to attack their left flank—and fail to take it?"

Hearing this offensive remark, Sha Dingzhou did not grow angry. He only smiled with an inscrutable air and said: "That was just a flanking attack. What if I attack from behind?" Wu Bikui looked toward the battlefield and saw that the Xia army's line had the Lu River to its east and a chain of mountains to its west. Puzzled, he asked: "How can you attack from behind? Both the South City Ferry and the Cold Water Shoal are held by the Xia army."

Sha Dingzhou gave a proud snort, then extended his hand and pointed to the southeast: "We go there—Dragon Pool Shoal! Summon all the bimo shamans!"

Yahei

Pink Round

Pen