Chapter 387: Three Hundred Tianxiong Soldiers Rout the Leveling King

"What? How did this happen? What the hell is Luo Dagu doing?"

The personal guard said, "The Tianxiong Army gathered near Yangzhou and made a feint, drawing away Commander Luo's river-defense forces, allowing that Lu fellow to cross the river downstream where the defenses were weak."

"The front lines report that Lu gathered over a thousand fishing boats in Yangzhou but used none of them, secretly building six or seven hundred small boats downstream instead. He's got some real skill."

Geng Wu asked, "Where are they now?"

"They crossed the river near Wuhu, then vanished. General Staff guesses they may be heading to defend Nanjing."

After hearing this and returning, Geng Wu's expression shifted slightly, but he didn't speak immediately.

In the room, Huo Ying grew more astonished as he listened: "Your... Your Majesty, by my rough calculations, once the new workshop is built, it'll only use two hundred catties of whale oil per month. Catching twenty of those small minke whales a year would be more than enough. It hardly seems necessary to build new ships, does it?"

Lin Qian shook his head: "In the future, street lamps must be installed throughout the city's lanes and alleys, and the markets need lighting at night as well."

"Whale oil is cheap and burns long. Once costs are driven down, public lighting has to use whale oil. Reading, governing, and working at night all become easier — only then can society run faster."

"Moreover, salted whale meat keeps well. Whether supplementing military rations or provisioning the ocean-going fleet, it's an extremely solid source of meat. Very important — the food security of Great Xia cannot rest entirely on Dongning and Water Chenla al—"

Lin Qian took a sip of tea, then continued explaining: "As for building dedicated whaling ships with specialized hulls — first, for ease of operation; second, for ease of supervision."

"Whales are large and highly profitable. Once market prices rise and the common folk see profit to be made, someone will inevitably grab any fishing boat or cargo vessel, refit it, and head to sea. Then you'll have a mess of hull types and inconsistent cargo capacities — who caught how much, and where, would be impossible to verify. By the time illegal whaling runs rampant, it'll be too late to rein in. So we build specialized ships with unified hull markings and fixed cargo capacities. How much oil and meat each ship brings back per voyage can be easily inspected. Only then can quotas and bans actually be enforced, and only then can we avoid draining the pond to catch the fish."

Huo Ying looked thoughtful, but Xiao Jiu didn't care about whaling. He stared at the attendant holding the design blueprints, thinking: "The whaling ship is only sixth on His Majesty's design list. I wonder what the top five are — especially the first?"

Lin Qian continued: "Besides, we'll soon take Zhejiang, and along with it Songjiang, Lake Tai, and other places."

"As the folk saying goes, 'You can never buy up all of Songjiang's cloth, nor gather all of Weitang's yarn.'"

"Yuyao and Jiashan are covered in cotton fields, every household has a loom. Cotton spinning is naturally suited to machine production and consumes the most whale oil — future demand will absolutely surpass your Foye Workshop. We need to prepare in advance."

Huo Ying was stunned by the scope of Lin Qian's planning and fell silent for a moment.

Lin Qian then said to Xiao Jiu: "After we take Java, a large amount of teak will pour in. I plan to build another new warship."

Xiao Jiu quickly said, "Another Candle Dragon?"

Lin Qian said, "No — a new flagship. A true seventy-four-gun ship of the line."

Great Xia's maritime territory had expanded, and the fleet had been split into the South Sea and North Sea divisions, spreading its strength thin. Facing potential counterattacks from the Dutch and Spanish, the South Sea Fleet was under enormous defensive pressure.

Continuing to expand the fleet was imperative. Lin Qian had originally planned to build two more sister ships of the Candle Dragon.

But recalling the Battle of Batavia — against the Hercules, the Candle Dragon had only held a slight edge. Without the Tianyuan providing fire support, even a victory would have been mutually destructive.

So better to build a new flagship and fully cross the threshold into the seventy-four-gun ship of the line!

"Tap! Tap!" Mute Huang knocked his pipe against the table, then raised his thumb.

Xiao Jiu's face lit up with joy: "Excellent! We've already built six Ming-class fourth-rate ships at the yard — we've got enough accumulated experience to build a new one." Mute Huang patted Xiao Jiu's shoulder, pointed at his head, then pointed at his hands.

Xiao Jiu explained with a laugh: "Master says if we don't build new ships, his brains will go dull and his hands will stiffen up."

Lin Qian said, "Java should have plenty of teak. This time we're not just building a new main flagship — we should also add several more fourth-rate and fifth-rate ships. Also, aren't two Ming-class fourth-rate ships still waiting to be launched this year? The shipyard's going to have its hands full for the next few years."

Xiao Jiu said, "Even if we halted all other ships, the main flagship's progress wouldn't be delayed. Has Your Majesty already drawn the plans?"

As he spoke, his gaze kept drifting toward the pile of cowhide blueprint tubes.

Lin Qian said, "Ranqiu, bring out blueprint number one."

Ranqiu pulled out the blueprint and laid it on the table. Mute Huang and his apprentice crowded around — the new ship's overall dimensions and tonnage were about twenty percent larger than the Candle Dragon's, with more gun ports, thicker hull plating, and a sturdier structure.

Correspondingly, the new ship's damage resistance was superior across the board, with better ocean-going endurance and firing stability.

In the age of sail and the line of battle, the seventy-four-gun ship of the line was the absolute backbone — the optimal design every navy arrived at after balancing firepower, seaworthiness, and cost.

Building a seventy-four-gun ship of the line wasn't just about gaining a new main flagship — more importantly, it laid the technical groundwork for mass-producing seventy-four-gun ships of the line in the future.

While the others studied the blueprint, Geng Wu sidled up to Lin Qian and handed over an official document.

"Your Majesty, a dispatch from the front. Lu Xiangsheng has crossed the river with five thousand soldiers."

Lin Qian took the document and opened it, noting the mark "II" in the upper-left corner — this was classified as important but not urgent, so it hadn't been brought to him immediately.

The document stated that in the seventh month of the third year of Zhongxuan, the Chongzhen Emperor appointed Lu Xiangsheng as Governor-General of Zhejiang and Zhili, tasked with defending Jiangnan. Since then, Lu Xiangsheng had massed troops in Yangzhou, requisitioned fishing boats, drawn away all of Luo Dagui's river-defense forces, then sent a detached force across the river downstream.

This classic "repairing the plank road in the open while secretly crossing at Chencang" maneuver was executed beautifully — but the General Staff didn't take it too seriously.

Setting aside the name Lu Xiangsheng, five thousand Tianxiong soldiers were nothing but clay chickens and ceramic dogs in the General Staff's eyes.

Before becoming Governor-General of Zhejiang and Zhili, Lu Xiangsheng had been the Provincial Surveillance Commissioner of Shandong — a typical civil official.

It was now 1632. The Tianxiong Army had yet to clash with the Northwestern peasant rebels. Lu Xiangsheng's talents had not yet shown themselves, and the epithet "Lu the King of Hell" had not yet spread in the north. So the General Staff didn't regard him at all.

Lin Qian thought for a moment, then said: "Send word to the General Staff — this man is not simple. Tell the front lines to handle him with care."

That night, in the northern foothills of the Tianmu Mountains at the border between South Zhili and Zhejiang, a column of men was advancing through the darkness.

The column numbered over three hundred, every man with a warhorse — but they spared the horses and walked on foot.

The column traveled on for some time. Perhaps feeling the road was too dangerous in the dark, they finally made camp beside the post road and ate some simple dry rations.

Hidden in the forests on both sides of the valley were over a thousand mountain bandits, led by none other than Chen Ping'an.

He had originally been a farming householder in Anfu County, Jiangxi. A local gentry magnate had swindled him with usury loans, ruining his family. In grief and fury, he raised a rebellion, slaughtered the magnate's entire household, and from then on ruled as king of his own turf in Anfu County.

Like the other Leveling Kings, his army gradually rotted as it expanded — seizing conscripts, robbing commoners, collecting exorbitant rents, and plundering tenant farmers, committing every evil imaginable. Later, when Great Xia invaded Jiangxi, his army was annihilated around Fuliang County.

Chen Ping'an and a few trusted men escaped in the chaos, fled to the Zhejiang-Zhili border, rallied local miners, charcoal burners, and fugitive households, and scraped together a force of over a thousand.

They still flew the banner of the Leveling King, but what they actually did was mountain-bandit work.

The Tianmu Mountains formed the border between Zhejiang and Zhili — a classic no-man's-land. With deep mountains, dense forests, and crisscrossing forks in the road, Chen Ping'an used his military experience and knowledge of the terrain to exhaust several government suppression campaigns, and so he established himself.

Over the years, the surrounding commoners learned that bandits had taken to the mountains and moved away one after another. Travelers all took detours. The official highways and post roads fell into desolate disuse.

Instead, bandits and fugitives from all around came seeking to join him, swelling Chen Ping'an's power until today he commanded three thousand men.

His force grew while his income shrank — a headache that plagued Chen Ping'an.

Unlike Jiangxi, Zhejiang had no tenant uprisings. Moreover, thanks to the opening of the seas, people's lives had improved in recent years and prices were cheap — there was even less reason for rebellion.

And Zhejiang's soldiers traced their lineage to the Qi Family Army — formidable in combat — while every city had strong walls.

Chen Ping'an didn't dare descend the mountain casually. Just as he was racking his brains, his men reported that a Ming army column was passing along the official road — only three hundred-odd men, with three hundred warhorses. Overjoyed, he hastily summoned all the brothers of the mountain stronghold and set up an ambush here.

Counting by moonlight, there were indeed over three hundred warhorses — not the short-legged ponies of the south, but the tall frontier horses of North Zhili.

This was a horse breed produced by crossing Mongol horses with Hetao horses, extremely precious in Jiangnan, where there was demand but no market.

Chen Ping'an's eyes were practically glowing with gold—if he sold these three hundred war horses, they'd fetch an astronomical price, and if he kept them for his own use, then he'd have cavalry too, making it much easier to deal with the government troops of Zhejiang and the Northern Metropolitan District.

Not only that, but each war horse also carried rolled cloth armor and long weapons, and even quite a few bows and crossbows—it was practically a mobile arsenal. Robbing this group would give him the capital to stage his comeback.

"Big Brother, doesn't look like there's much to gain here?" said a burly man with dark skin beside Chen Ping'an.

This man was a charcoal burner from Anji Prefecture, rough and bold by nature. He had turned outlaw after accidentally beating a man to death in a brawl, and later, hearing of the name of the Shovel-Ping King, came to pledge his allegiance. The man possessed monstrous strength, was skilled with two great axes, and charged into battle like a mad dog, with courage that ten thousand men could not withstand. On the mountain stronghold he was called "Little Li Kui." Another man said: "Tie Han! One war horse plus a full set of armor is worth far more than gold or silver.

Especially that small horn-tipped bow—did you see it? That's a treasure. A single such bow consumes an entire pair of water buffalo horns, and even a master bowyer can only make two or three a year, the craftsmanship is extremely intricate."

As he spoke, his eyes were fixed on the Ming army camp, saliva practically dripping from his mouth.

This man came from a miner's background and had followed Chen Ping'an since the uprising in Jiangxi.

Because they spent years roaming the mountains and forests, most miners knew how to use clubs, spears, and knives, and some even knew archery. This man had trained himself into skill that way—his archery was extraordinary, hitting the mark every time within fifty paces, earning him the title "Little Hua Rong."

Little Li Kui said: "How much silver is a bow like that worth?"

"Even with money you can't buy one... but if you had the connections, it would cost at least twenty taels of silver."

Little Li Kui let out an exclamation of surprise.

Someone who heard this said nervously: "These Ming troops are well equipped—could they be a bunch of household retainers? Maybe we should..."

Little Li Kui said angrily: "We've already got our pants off, just one last push away, and now you're going soft?"

"Enough of this!" Chen Ping'an barked angrily, then lowered his voice, "They may be well equipped, but they don't wear their armor while marching. Besides, after forced marching, men and horses alike are exhausted—they must be fast asleep by now.

We outnumber the Ming troops, and every one of us is a fierce fighter. We strike in the latter half of the night, attacking their camp while they sleep—we're sure to succeed!"

Little Li Kui chuckled: "Big Brother is right!"

Chen Ping'an continued: "Besides, the Great Xia army has been sweeping southward like a splitting bamboo lately. The Ming troops are terrified of the Xia army. When we raid their camp, we'll use the Great Xia army's name—when the Ming troops hear it, they'll turn tail and run."

Little Hua Rong praised: "Brilliant!"

Chen Ping'an curled the corner of his mouth: "Tell the brothers to rest up well. We move at the fifth watch."

"Yes!" Someone went down to relay the order.

Chen Ping'an closed his eyes to rest. After who knows how long, between waking and sleeping, someone roused him.

"Big Brother, it's about time." Little Li Kui said in his deep, rumbling voice. He held a great axe in each hand, the blades glinting blue under the moonlight. Chen Ping'an looked toward the Ming army camp—the campfires were mostly extinguished, the sentries listless, almost no one moving about inside. Only the war horses occasionally let out a snort. Clearly the entire camp was dead asleep.

Little Hua Rong came up from the woods in the valley and said in a low voice: "Big Brother, I just took some men up close to look—the whole camp is snoring, sleeping like dead pigs.

The sentries are wearing short tunics with waist knives, all finding spots to doze off."

Chen Ping'an thought to himself: "Heaven truly aids me!"

He immediately gave the order: "No battle cries. We creep up silently!"

"Got it!" Little Hua Rong acknowledged, then imitated a crow's call to signal the brothers on the other side of the valley.

Under the moonlight, shadows flickered among the trees—only the rustling of leaves and the sound of startled birds filled the air.

"Woo—" Suddenly, a conch horn sounded from within the Ming army camp, and Ming soldiers poured out of their tents.

Chen Ping'an was briefly stunned. He couldn't figure out how the supposedly dead-asleep Ming troops had detected them, but things had already reached this point—discovery was too late regardless.

He drew his waist knife and shouted: "The Great Xia army is here! Kill!"

Immediately, battle cries rang out across the mountains and fields.

"The Great Xia army is here! Surrender quickly!"

"The Great Xia army is here!"

Chen Ping'an had been charging at the very front, but as he neared the camp, he deliberately slowed his pace, letting his subordinates surge past him.

Then, from the woods, a flood of black shadows burst forth like a torrent, completely engulfing that small patch of Ming army position.

The clash of blades and spears and screams followed.

"Success!" Chen Ping'an rejoiced inwardly.

But after a few breaths, the Ming army's formation still hadn't collapsed, and Chen Ping'an's smile gradually froze.

A few more breaths passed—the battle cries grew quieter, while the screams became ever clearer.

Seeing this scene, he felt a sense of déjà vu. It seemed he had seen this before at Fuliang County town—when the Great Xia army formed ranks, they too stood unshakable against the tide-like assault of the Shovel-Ping army.

Chen Ping'an gritted his teeth, drew his blade, and charged into the formation. He refused to believe that a thousand men could lose to three hundred.

His troops' formation was scattered—most stood at the perimeter shouting, their wild cries, curses, and screams mingling together like a nest of startled wild boar piglets. As he reached the front of the formation, he heard a dull "thud-thud" sound—the noise of spears and waist knives sinking into flesh and blood, mixed with a few orders shouted in a northern accent.

He saw those three hundred Ming soldiers standing back to back, formed into three small square formations arranged in a triangle, protecting a large central tent in the middle.

These Ming soldiers wore almost no armor, their hair buns in disarray, some even bare-assed—yet not a single one fled. Some held long weapons, others defended with short blades alone.

They looked slovenly, but in truth, the Shovel-Ping army had attacked several times without budging them, instead leaving several corpses before their formation.

The Shovel-Ping army had now fallen back, the two sides facing off across a gap of a dozen or so paces.

Seeing this, Chen Ping'an shouted: "We are the Great Xia army! Surrender now if you know what's good for you—once our cannons arrive, you'll all be blown to ashes!" "Excellent! I've been wanting to test myself against you."

A vigorous, full-bodied voice came from within the tent, and then the tent curtain was thrown open—a scholar emerged, attended by two armored soldiers.

The scholar was around thirty years old, fair-skinned, of medium build, with an inch or so of beard. It was too dark to make out his features clearly, but from his dress and bearing, he was a typical man of letters.

Chen Ping'an felt somewhat relieved. He looked at the two armored soldiers behind the scholar—one held a great water buffalo horn bow, the other a large saber. Both the bow and the saber were astonishing in size. The saber's spine in particular looked two fingers thick—only a man of extraordinary ferocity could wield it. These two must surely be fierce generals.

He would have to proceed with caution.

So Chen Ping'an said: "The Great Xia army never takes advantage of a man in a tight spot. Since you, you dog of an official, still know some courtesy, I'll let you leave—just leave the war horses behind."

Hearing this, Little Li Kui said urgently: "Big Brother, you can't let—"

"Silence!" Chen Ping'an shot him a glare, then looked back at the scholar and said, "Well?"

The scholar let out a disdainful snort, then said softly: "Attack!"

The armored soldier beside him relayed the order in a loud voice.

Instantly, the entire force let out a single fierce cry of "Kill!" Bird-gun musketeers hidden within the triangle formation fired a volley in all directions, and the Shovel-Ping army immediately lost another dozen or so men.

Then the triangle formation dispersed, and the Ming troops charged forward like tigers descending the mountain, recklessly fearless.

The Chanping Army soldiers at the very front were immediately cut down by blades and spears.

Those Ming soldiers were all highly skilled and fearless of death; though it was a chaotic melee, they coordinated in pairs and trios, and the Chanping Army was no match for them—in the blink of an eye, a whole layer of them fell.

Chen Ping'an's miners and charcoal burners were themselves known for being belligerent and daring to risk their lives, yet now they were so frightened that they fell back one after another.

Seeing this, Chen Ping'an shouted loudly: "Charge! We outnumber them—if we all charge together, we'll win!"

"You bastards, give me your lives!" Xiao Likui suddenly roared, tearing open his shirt and charging forward with two great axes in hand. The muscles of his upper body gleamed faintly in the moonlight, like a savage beast from the wilds.

No matter how well the Ming soldiers coordinated, they could not withstand such a headlong rush of brute force, and their formation was immediately breached at one point.

The nearly collapsing Chanping Army saw this and surged forward again in full force.

"Hahahaha!" Xiao Likui laughed wildly amidst the crowd.

Each of his great axes weighed over ten catties; together they came to a full thirty catties. Any waist-sword that touched them snapped on contact, and anyone grazed by them died or was maimed. Neither Ming soldiers nor Chanping Army men dared come near him.

He actually managed to move through the enemy formation freely, as if entering uninhabited ground.

Suddenly—"Clang!"—a tremendous sound rang out.

One great axe flew high into the sky, then fell heavily, embedding itself in the ground and making the earth around it tremble.

Xiao Likui's right hand went numb from the tremendous force; he staggered back three steps and barely managed to steady himself before he could fall.

He looked at his right hand in disbelief—the axe was gone. He looked again at what was before him.

There stood the scholar, holding a heavy long blade, coldly staring at him.

From that single clash of weapons alone, Xiao Likui knew he was absolutely no match for this man, and fear began to rise in his heart.

But the sight of this bookish man wielding a great saber was too incongruous, giving him a feeling of being toyed with. Fury flared in his heart, and grabbing his remaining axe, he charged straight ahead without a second thought.

"Ahh!" Xiao Likui let out a piercing shout, then struck downward with the force of splitting Mount Hua.

In a flash of lightning, there came a harsh screech of weapons colliding, followed by a burst of sparks.

The next moment, the two passed each other. Xiao Likui's head was separated from his body; blood spurted from the wound, his torso crashed to the ground, still twitching and jerking wildly, while his head rolled to one side—eyes wide open in death.

This had happened as swiftly as a falcon stooping on a hare; life and death had been decided too fast for most to even see it.

But Chen Ping'an had seen it, and his face was filled with an expression of having seen a ghost.

He had originally thought that exaggerated great blade belonged to the armored warrior—could it be that the armored man was merely carrying the weapon for the scholar?

Chen Ping'an knew Xiao Likui's abilities best. His twin axes weighed a full thirty catties, and with his brute strength, the force behind each axe swing was at least three or four hundred catties.

And yet this human-shaped giant beast had his weapon casually knocked away and was cut down in a single move.

Could that scholar be the reincarnation of Guan Yu?

Xiao Huarong reacted quickly, nocking an arrow and loosing three in rapid succession, but the scholar merely sidestepped lightly and dodged them all.

Xiao Huarong was so shocked his jaw nearly dropped to the ground.

Was this even a human?

Xiao Likui lay decapitated, and the remaining Chanping Army men were no match for the Ming soldiers, who cut them down efficiently. Within a few breaths, they could no longer hold on and all turned to flee. Xiao Huarong trembled all over with fear, his fingers clutching a bamboo arrow, unable to nock it to the bowstring several times.

"Big brother, big brother!" Xiao Huarong called out several times with no response. He turned his head and saw that Chen Ping'an had vanished without a trace.

Just then he heard footsteps before him. He turned around and was instantly terrified out of his wits—the scholar was sprinting toward him, great blade in hand.

Xiao Huarong threw down his bow, grabbed a bamboo arrow to use as a dagger, and abruptly stepped forward, thrusting it at the scholar's neck.

This move was a life-saving technique Xiao Huarong had painstakingly practiced for years; as he unleashed it now, his movement was as fast as lightning.

Unexpectedly, the scholar stopped abruptly in his tracks. Xiao Huarong lunged at empty air and fell to the ground. As he struggled to get up, a searing pain suddenly shot through his right hand—he felt as if his very bones and sinews were being crushed.

He struggled ceaselessly, barely lifting his head, and saw his right hand pinned under someone's foot—the scholar was looking down at him from above.

"Tie him up!"

"Yes, sir!" Two soldiers stepped forward and bound Xiao Huarong hand and foot.

While the Ming soldiers were taking prisoners, he looked around and saw that the battle was essentially over. The ground was littered with the corpses of the Chanping Army, while the Ming soldiers had suffered almost no casualties.

Even in that battle at Fuliang County, when they had faced the Great Xia Army, the casualty ratio had never been this lopsided.

The Ming soldiers were now capturing prisoners—already over five hundred—and some Ming cavalry had mounted their horses to give chase.

Xiao Huarong swept his gaze across the surroundings, and his eyes came to rest on the scholar.

Just then, an officer saluted him with cupped hands and reported: "Your Excellency, our forces have five lightly wounded and two seriously wounded."

"You corrupt official, kill me if you have the guts!" Xiao Huarong forced a show of bravado.

At that moment, a cavalryman returned to camp, untied a net bag, and out tumbled a pile of severed heads with a clatter—all of them fleeing Chanping Army men, all freshly cut, blood still dripping from the necks.

Xiao Huarong's gaze fell upon one of the heads, and his breath caught in his throat, his eyes splitting with rage—it was Chen Ping'an's head.

The head was caked with dirt, the face frozen in terror, utterly miserable to behold.

He never imagined that the Chanping King—who bore a blood debt of deep vengeance and had roamed unchecked through Zhejiang, Zhili, and Jiangxi—would die here, as obscurely as a stray dog. Xiao Huarong could not help but feel a daze come over him.

The cavalryman said: "Your Excellency, we caught up with them all—not a single one got away."

The scholar nodded and said: "Good."

Then the scholar walked before Xiao Huarong, lowered his gaze to look down at him, and spoke in a deep, steady voice: "You people attacked government officers by night—by law, you deserve death. But the state is in troubled waters, and brave warriors are precisely what is needed. This Commander is willing to offer you a path to atone for your crimes through merit. What say you?"

Xiao Huarong pondered for a moment, then instead of answering, asked in return: "May I ask the Commandant's name?"

The scholar said: "I am Lu Xiangsheng, Governor-General of Zhejiang and Zhili."

Yahei

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