Chapter 392: The Rats

Yuhuatai, before dawn.

The sound of gunfire rolled through the night like muffled thunder. Orange flashes lit up the paddy fields, the foot of the hill, and the slopes alike. Gunsmoke quickly shrouded the entire battlefield, then drifted under the northwest wind toward the Tianxiong Army, rendering their assault formation hazy in the darkness and smoke.

Night fog and gun smoke blocked their vision; the Tianxiong Army could only fire blindly toward the flashes and the sounds.

On the hillside, a patch of orange-red firelight suddenly blazed up, followed by the simultaneous roar of cannon and the shriek of projectiles tearing through air. The cannonballs struck the ground, bounced up again, and ripped through the Tianxiong Army's formation.

Liang Fu bellowed: "Musketeers and gunners to the front, sword-and-axe men on the flanks, the whole army spreads out!"

His orders were relayed layer by layer. Soon the army scattered like stars across the field. Large numbers of matchlock musketeers, working alongside the Folangji cannon crews in loose formation, advanced in gradual mutual support, firing guns and cannon together, shooting ceaselessly toward the flashes of the enemy cannon muzzles on the slope.

The sword-and-shield men, using the darkness and gunsmoke, circled around to the hillside, using the trees as cover, and charged up the mountain with fearless abandon.

On Yuhuatai, Li Jingshuo commanded from the center of his army, surrounded by the unbroken roar of gunfire and passing shot. From time to time, soldiers of the New Army were hit and fell.

Since the Great Xia uprising began, this was the first time they had encountered Ming troops who could trade fire with the New Army for so long and give as good as they got.

Combined with the dim sky at this hour and the Ming army's known weakness in night fighting—

Li Jingshuo concluded that the enemy before him must be an elite force.

"Boom! Boom! Boom..."

Under the rotating fire of the brigade's artillery battalion, the ground trembled slightly, and pine needles fell around them like rain.

In the faint light of dawn, the cannonballs could be seen descending on the enemy formation like a black net. Mud splashed in all directions. Many shells skipped off the ground like stones across water, flew another hundred paces, then bounced and fell again.

Yet the screams drifting up from the foot of the hill were few, and no panicked shouts or commands from enemy officers could be heard.

In the dawn light, the two sides exchanged fire in this silence, giving Li Jingshuo the illusion that he was fighting a civil war against the Great Xia New Army itself.

The brigade's artillery battalion was supposed to be equipped with thirty-six six-pounder cannons, but due to insufficient cannon production capacity, only thirty six-pounders had been issued, with six mortars making up the shortfall.

Suddenly, another volley of cannon fire sounded behind Li Jingshuo—the six mortars' explosive shells arced over in parabolas and came down.

Six explosions then rang out in succession on the enemy position. Firelight flashed briefly before turning into thick black smoke, and lead shot burst outward from the flames and smoke of the explosions.

Mortars were siege weapons; their accuracy was very poor, and in open battle they could barely hit anything. Moreover, their fuses were not set precisely, so the explosions came at staggered times.

Still, by the light of the successive explosions, Li Jingshuo was able to make out the enemy's formation.

He saw that the Tianxiong Army's formation was extremely dispersed, split into over a hundred small groups, each of five to twenty men.

The soldiers in each group carried different weapons, resembling so many oversized mandarin-duck formations.

Amid the hail of gunfire, these combat groups worked together with practiced coordination—some groups used gun and cannon fire to suppress the enemy, while others simply charged headlong. Though the Xia army originally held the numerical advantage, the Tianxiong Army, by not forming a dense mass, actually covered a wider front and directly swept around from both flanks. After several rounds of cannon fire, Tianxiong soldiers had already charged up the hillside. Without waiting for Li Jingshuo's order, the two frontline infantry battalions under his command each sent out a company of skirmishers to meet the enemy.

A battalion of the Seventh Division had a full strength of six hundred and eighty men, with one battalion commander overseeing four company commanders. Any order could be relayed clearly by running a few steps and shouting a couple of times—no longer did they have to wait for a mounted messenger from the central command to carry the order. The troops responded extremely quickly.

The two companies spread out, covering the entire width of the front line.

Soldiers took cover behind rocks and trees, calmly firing at the Tianxiong Army.

Compared to the Great Xia's skirmish lines, which were dispersed to the extreme, the Tianxiong Army's mandarin-duck-style combat groups were nothing but large live targets, mowed down one by one, row by row, by cold shots from behind rocks, shell holes, and pine trees.

The Tianxiong Army's charge was abruptly halted. Casualties skyrocketed, and many combat groups were wiped out to the last man.

The Tianxiong soldiers behind them stepped over their comrades' corpses and pressed forward, charging right up to the skirmish line and cutting down every skirmisher who could not retreat in time.

After the skirmishers fell back, the Tianxiong Army pushed forward under volley after volley of aimed fire. At the same time, Tianxiong sword-and-shield men burst out on both of the Xia army's flanks. The New Army soldiers on both wings immediately formed angled (refused) formations, contracting their lines. After several volleys, they closed with the Tianxiong Army in hand-to-hand combat.

Even though the Tianxiong Army's formation was worse and their casualties heavier, they actually held a slight advantage in the bayonet-and-blade melee.

In the center, a staff officer witnessing this exclaimed in astonishment: "Regiment commander, something's wrong!"

Another staff officer was equally incredulous: "Any ordinary Ming army would have routed long ago with casualties like this. How is this bunch of Ming soldiers fighting harder the more they lose?"

Li Jingshuo said: "Send the reserve to support both flanks."

Of his three infantry battalions, one had been held in reserve and had not yet entered the fight.

Upon receiving Li Jingshuo's order, the battalion commander sent two companies into the melee while the other two companies circled around to the flank of the Tianxiong forces on both wings, forming a semi-encirclement of the Tianxiong Army.

No matter how fearless or skilled the Tianxiong soldiers were, once trapped in such a disadvantageous formation they could only flounder, and were run through one by one by the Xia army's bayonets. The remaining Tianxiong soldiers, though unable to withstand the Xia army's assault, fought to the death and refused to retreat. The soil on the slope was soon soaked dark brown with blood.

Just then, from the southwest came the dull thunder of hoofbeats, like a mountain flood rolling in.

Liang Fu looked to the southwest and saw a great cloud of dust rising on the horizon. Judging by the sound and scale, there were at least several thousand cavalry.

His heart filled with joy—at last, he had drawn off some of the enemy's strength from Governor Lu at Niushou Mountain. Even if he died here, he would have no regrets.

At that very moment, the gun and cannon fire on the Tianxiong Army's front suddenly ceased. Someone came to report: "Commander, our lead and powder are spent."

Liang Fu knew the Xia army's firepower was formidable. Without firearms to cover them, with a powerful enemy ahead and pursuers behind, the Tianxiong Army could never retreat safely. He glanced at the city of Nanjing, so close at hand—the city gates tightly shut, the soldiers on the walls watching coldly from the sidelines. A wave of grief washed over his heart.

Liang Fu drew his blade and roared: "Soldiers! Follow me and kill the rebels!"

The musketeers and gunners all threw down their firearms, drew their blades, and charged. At the same time, the Tianxiong Army set fires everywhere on the mountain.

Li Jingshuo had long since ordered firebreaks cut on the hillside, so the flames could not reach his position—they only produced wisps of black smoke.

With no suppressive fire to worry about, the Xia army fired several more volleys. Another layer of Tianxiong soldiers in front went down.

The men behind them charged fearlessly forward again to close with the Xia army in hand-to-hand combat.

By now the Xia army held every advantage: superior total numbers, defensive fortifications, the high ground attacking downward, and fresh troops fighting weary ones. The Tianxiong musketeers and gunners carried only waist sabers as secondary weapons. Some managed to pick up spears or shields along their charge, but most could only fight with their waist sabers—hopelessly outmatched against bayonets, they were run through in batch after batch.

Blood gathered into rivulets that flowed down the slope toward the foot of the hill. The scene was bloody beyond measure.

At the same time, the cavalry brigade led by Zhang Moye had arrived at the foot of the hill, less than two li away.

"Dismount!" At Zhang Moye's command, the entire force dismounted with crisp, orderly movements.

The horses were left in the care of designated handlers. The mounted infantry quickly assembled in front of the horse lines, then sprinted up the mountain.

The advantage of the mounted infantry's brutal running drills now showed itself—over four thousand mounted infantrymen ran at full speed and plunged straight into the flames and thick smoke of Yuhuatai.

From within the ranks, someone shouted: "Third Company Commander, your men are on firefighting duty!"

"Yes sir! Third Company, fall out and put out the fires!"

A company of over a hundred and fifty men peeled off from the column; the rest of the soldiers continued up the mountain.

Yuhuatai's total elevation was only a little over thirty zhang, and the two armies were already fighting on the slope. The mounted infantry arrived in an instant, fixed bayonets, and stabbed into the backs of the Tianxiong Army. Though they had come on a long-distance march, their stamina was still far greater than the Tianxiong soldiers', and they quickly surrounded the remaining few hundred Tianxiong troops in a tight ring.

Facing a dense forest of bayonets from every direction, the Tianxiong Army had no means to fight back. The soldiers on the outer ring were run through, layer after layer.

The whole force was like a great sponge, squeezed and compressed ever smaller, blood gushing out in streams.

Zhang Moye saw this scene and said to the cavalry Mobile Corps Commander, "Have your men shout that we are all Han Chinese, together against the Tartar slaves, surrender and you won't be killed!" "Yes!" The cavalry brigade had two regiments, eight mounted-infantry battalions, plus one brigade-level horse-artillery battalion. When actual orders were issued, brigade commands bypassed the regimental level and went straight down to the battalions.

The mounted infantry had only just joined the battle and hadn't yet gone blood-mad, so upon hearing the order they shouted in unison.

"All Han Chinese, together against the Tartar slaves, surrender and you won't be killed! All Han Chinese, together against—"

The Tianxiong Army's military law was extremely strict—if one man fled, his entire family was punished by association. Add to that the fact that fathers, sons, and brothers all served in the same army, and that was how they could fight without fear of death.

But they bore no deep hatred toward the Xia Army. On the contrary, since they were all from Beizhili, nearly every one of them had some grudge against the Jianzhou barbarians.

Now trapped in a desperate situation, hearing these words, many hesitated and exchanged uneasy glances.

Liang Fu was drenched in blood, using his saber as a crutch, sucking in cold air through his teeth, his left hand pressed over the abdominal wound—one stabbed by a Xia Army bayonet.

Even wearing cloth-faced armor, the wound was severe. Blood had soaked through the armor's inner lining and his trousers, and his vision kept going black.

He shouted through the pain: "Don't stop! Kill! Kill every last one of these rebels!"

But no one among the surrounding Tianxiong soldiers was listening to him anymore. When a battle reached this point, fighting on meant nothing but death.

Just as the Great Xia Army said—they were all Han Chinese, so why bother? Better to keep their lives and go kill Jianzhou barbarians, wouldn't that be preferable?

Liang Fu shouted several times to those around him, and seeing no one obey, fury rushed to his heart. He roared, "How has the Minister treated you all, and this is how you repay him?"

Someone nearby urged him, "Regional Commander, our army is defeated. Surrender."

Liang Fu snarled, "You rats!" Then he raised his saber and charged straight at the Xia Army.

The next moment, seven or eight bayonets pierced through his body. Liang Fu struggled for a moment, then breathed his last, his steel saber clattering to the ground.

"Regional Commander!" Many Tianxiong soldiers wailed, but no one stepped forward.

Under the Xia Army's shouted orders, the remaining few hundred broken soldiers laid down their weapons. Xia soldiers came forward and bound the prisoners' hands and feet.

In the New Army's Seventh Division, every company had a military medic, and at the regimental level there was even a medical company. With ample medical personnel, they quickly went down to dress wounds and treat the injured. Atop Nanjing's Yuhua Gate, the Minister of War watched the Tianxiong Army's disastrous defeat, and the heart he'd been holding in suspense finally died.

Beside him, the Nanjing Garrison Commander said with relief, "Thank heavens we didn't open the city gates. If those rebel troops had come pouring in all at once, it would have been a catastrophe." At the same time, at the Nanjing Garrison Commander Eunuch's residence, a young eunuch came to report the battle situation outside the city.

The Garrison Commander Eunuch sat with eyes closed, listening to a singing girl play the pipa, attended by three maidservants—one kneading his shoulders, two massaging his feet. Utterly content, he merely said flatly upon hearing the report, "Noted."

The young eunuch looked somewhat worried, glanced at the Garrison Commander Eunuch, and said, "…Godfather, we haven't followed the Minister's orders. Will His Majesty—" The Garrison Commander Eunuch kept his eyes closed, only his tone turning displeased: "The letter was addressed to the Minister of War. Whether to send troops is a local matter. What does it have to do with us?"

The young eunuch's worry turned to delight, and he added, "Godfather speaks wisely."

The Garrison Commander Eunuch said smugly, "Don't worry. The sky won't fall."

And in the corners the high officials and nobles couldn't see, along Nanjing's city wall stretching several hundred zhang, there was utter silence. Not a single word of idle talk among the soldiers—everyone sat slumped in despair.

The garrison's morale had sunk to rock bottom.

The sun rose to mid-sky. The great fire at Yuhuatai had been mostly extinguished, leaving only wisps of blue smoke curling upward.

Zhang Moye looked down from the mountainside. The number of corpses in this battle wasn't especially large, but it had been extremely brutal—the Tianxiong Army had nearly fought to total annihilation.

Even Zhang Moye, seeing this scene, couldn't help but sigh that this truly had been a formidable army.

But then he felt a sense of absurdity. By all logic, elite troops like these should have been held back to serve as a spearhead for breaking enemy formations. Why had Lu Xiangsheng instead sent these men to die?

This completely violated the principles of warcraft!

A flash of insight struck Zhang Moye's mind, and he said, "Damn it!"

He immediately ordered, "Cavalry brigade, mount up! We're returning to camp at once!"

At the same time Liang Fu attacked Yuhuatai and drew away the New Army's cavalry brigade, Lu Xiangsheng sent two detached forces out of camp.

One force went to the lower reaches of the Qinhuai River, constructing positions with side-shield carts and sandbags, bombarding the river surface with Folangji cannons to suppress the Great Xia warships.

The other force marched out of camp from Fangshan, ostentatiously moving transport boats and bamboo rafts, making a great show of preparing to force a crossing of the Qinhuai River.

Lu Xiangsheng himself led the main force across the Qinhuai River at the shallow ford of Moling Pass upstream, completely undetected.

By the time Lei Sanxiang realized Lu Xiangsheng had appeared south of Niushou Mountain, he could only curse furiously in his heart: "Damn it! Fell for that bastard's trick again!"

But Lei Sanxiang's face showed nothing at all. Instead he laughed, "Good, good! Worth all the openings I've been showing this while. If we'd guarded the river too tightly, that bitch-born coward wouldn't have dared cross!"

At these words, all the surrounding officers burst into laughter together.

At present, along the Niushou Mountain line there was one battalion of the New Army, plus six infantry battalions of the Seventh Division, plus the Seventh Division's attached artillery regiment—ten thousand men in total, with over two hundred cannons, comprehensively outnumbering Lu Xiangsheng.

At Yuhuatai there was also Zhang Moye's cavalry brigade, over four thousand men, and Lei Sanxiang had already sent a fast rider ordering them back.

Once the cavalry brigade arrived, the Xia Army would hold an absolute numerical advantage over Lu Xiangsheng. None of the officers present could imagine how they might lose. Their mindset was thus extremely relaxed.

Lei Sanxiang said, "Pass the order: all cannons on both mountains, swing the muzzles around and aim at the flat ground at the southeast foot of the mountain."

West bank of the Qinhuai River, southern foothills of Niushou Mountain.

Lu Xiangsheng gazed toward the southeast in the direction of Lukou Town, but still saw no sign of the rear army.

The order for the rear army to advance had been issued yesterday. They should have arrived long ago, yet still there was no sign.

Dawn had already broken. Liang Fu surely couldn't hold out much longer. He couldn't wait any more.

Lu Xiangsheng turned his head to look toward Niushou Mountain and Jiangjun Mountain.

In the nearly month-long standoff between the two armies, he had basically mapped out the Xia Army's deployment—Niushou Mountain as the main position, Jiangjun Mountain as support. The small stretch of flat ground half-enclosed by the two mountains was the Xia Army's pre-set battlefield. Attacking rashly would invite simultaneous crossfire from both mountains' artillery, no different from suicide. And Niushou Mountain's western and southern slopes were steep—even without artillery fire, they would be nearly impossible to take.

Only by marching to the southeast of Jiangjun Mountain and attacking up along its ridgeline did the army have a thread of hope.

By now, the bird boats on the Qinhuai River were all blocked by the side-shield cart positions Lu Xiangsheng had set up, unable to sail south for some time. Not fearing an attack from behind, he announced clearly, "Leave three hundred men to set up a feint. The rest of the army, march due north along the official road to the foot of Jiangjun Mountain!"

At the command, the entire army began its slow march, while the three hundred feint troops gathered tree branches on the spot and ran back and forth, kicking up dust to simulate the passage of a large force. Unfortunately, Lu Xiangsheng's numbers were simply too few—the three hundred-man feint was seen through at a glance by Lei Sanxiang through his telescope. He thought, "You thieving bastard! Still trying to fool me?" Then he shouted, "Pass the order: the main force on Niushou Mountain comes down and presses forward. Send two banner companies to deal with that bunch raising dust with brooms!" "Yes!"

About two hours later, Lu Xiangsheng arrived at the battlefield.

Five thousand Xia soldiers also came down from Niushou Mountain, marching along the foot of Jiangjun Mountain, horse-drawn artillery trailing behind them. They advanced to one side of Jiangjun Mountain's ridgeline and formed ranks facing the Qinhuai River.

This situation wasn't much better for Lu Xiangsheng.

Time was running short. Lu Xiangsheng had no opportunity to adjust his formation. Knowing he was at a disadvantage on every front, he could only charge to his death.

He cast one last glance to the southeast. Still no sign of reinforcements.

Lu Xiangsheng steeled his resolve, took up his saber and mounted his horse, then announced to his men: "Soldiers, we have all received the nation's grace. The time to repay our country has come. Today, do not fear death—fear only failing to live! Charge the formation!"

"Kill!" The entire army let out a single shout and pressed forward all at once.

On the slopes of Jiangjun Mountain, the division artillery regiment's cannons had all adjusted their angles, waiting with focused intensity.

The range-finder soldier shouted, "Two thousand paces!"

"One thousand paces!"

"Five hundred paces!"

The commanders of each artillery battalion shouted in unison, "Fire!"

Over a hundred cannons thundered at once, the ground instantly shaking so violently that dust flew everywhere. The entire mountainside of General Mountain lit up in a ring of orange flame, and the roar of cannon fire reverberated between heaven and earth like a collapsing mountain.

Before the echoes of the cannon fire had even faded, the shells came screaming through the air with a piercing whistle, slamming diagonally into the charging formation of the Ming army.

Although Lu Xiangsheng had already ordered his Ming troops to spread out in advance, and the cannons were firing from a great distance, there were simply too many shells—still over a dozen struck among the men. One soldier had no time to react before a shot smashed him in half at the waist, his upper body blasted into a mist of blood, arms and head flying over ten feet away, shattered bone mixed with blood spraying all over those around him.

Several dozen more shots plowed into the earth, gouging furrows half a foot deep and over ten feet long, then bounced up violently and continued sweeping forward.

Anyone standing in the path of the shots was either dead or wounded, leaving behind only a trail of severed limbs and screams.

The solid iron shots bounced several times until their force was spent, then embedded themselves in the soil, leaving steaming craters behind.

Lu Xiangsheng turned around on his horse and looked back—the sight was horrifying. In but a few breaths, over a dozen bloody furrows had appeared among the Ming troops, shattered armor, broken blades, and mangled corpses scattered about, blood soaking the loose earth into a deep red.

"Spread out! Spread out!" Lu Xiangsheng shouted.

The company commanders and platoon commanders in the army roared out the orders. The Tianxiong Army and the Zhejiang troops were the best at using firearms among the Ming forces, and their formations immediately dispersed even further.

The next few volleys of shells came, still fearsome in sound and fury, but no longer carrying that terrifying killing power.

In the blink of an eye they advanced to within three hundred paces. The cannon fire from the mountainside of General Mountain grew denser, and gunsmoke nearly shrouded the entire mountaintop. The northwest wind blew, spreading smoke across the whole battlefield.

The Ming army was practically advancing through a thin fog.

Suddenly, a piercing shriek came from the sky as well, growing from distant to near.

A Ming soldier looked up and saw a small black dot in the air gradually growing larger. At several zhang above the ground, it suddenly exploded.

With a tremendous boom, a ball of fire burst open, then rapidly turned into a cloud of black smoke. From within the smoke, lead shot flew in all directions, sand and soil splashing everywhere, the sound of lead balls striking the ground unceasing.

The three Ming soldiers beneath the exploding shell were all killed by the lead shot, while another seven or eight wounded men collapsed to the ground, wailing endlessly in utter misery.

That mortar shell had gotten incredibly lucky, producing the effect of an airburst.

The other exploding shells landed at crooked angles, killing few—but the successive explosions in the formation were terrifying in sound and spectacle.

The blasted dust rolled up into the sky, mixing with the gunsmoke, further limiting visibility across the battlefield.

The Ming army pressed on through the cannon fire, advancing to within two hundred paces. The tiger-crouch cannons and Folangji cannons all opened fire, and for a moment, fifty or sixty muzzle flashes lit up along their battle line.

Both the Tianxiong Army and the Zhejiang troops were equipped with large numbers of firearms—had Lu Xiangsheng not crossed the river in such haste, there would have been even more cannons.

Around the ears of the Xia army's rank-and-file soldiers, the whistling of shots was unceasing. From time to time a soldier was struck by lead shot and fell, and soldiers in the rear ranks immediately stepped forward to fill the gap. At this moment, the Ming army had not yet advanced into musket range, so the rank-and-file soldiers had no other action besides standing straight and still.

The lieutenants and sergeants in the companies stood at the sides and rear of the formation, their eyes scanning constantly. If a rank-and-file soldier so much as stirred, they would be met with a torrent of abuse cursing their fathers and mothers.

"You two, what are you doing! Stand straight, chests out!"

"You son of a bitch! Pick up that bayonet! Drop it one more time and I'll shoot you myself!"

"Xu Chen! Are you stupid? Step forward!"

Most of the sergeants of the Seventh Division were veterans from the old Sixth Battalion, while the lower ranks were all new recruits.

So even though the new army held the advantage in numbers and firepower in this battle, facing a hail of bullets, the new recruits could not help but be nervous.

Xu Chen was the envoy who had visited Sha Dingzhou during the pacification of Yunnan. After returning from Yunnan, he had resolved to join the army and enlisted in the Seventh Division, which was then recruiting new soldiers.

Today was not his first time stepping onto a battlefield, but it was his first time standing in the rank-and-file line. The sound of lead shot whistling past his ears, knowing he could be killed at any moment—the pressure nearly swallowed him whole.

Fortunately, someone stood in front of Xu Chen. His surname was Chen, and his name was Chen Er—a veteran transferred from the old First Battalion, holding the rank of corporal.

Chen Er looked after Xu Chen like an elder brother, and even told him that on the battlefield, the less afraid you were of death, the more the blades and bullets would avoid you.

Having noticed the fear in Xu Chen's heart, Chen Er even swapped positions with him, letting Xu Chen stand behind him.

Who could have imagined that just moments ago, Chen Er would have his head blown open by a lead shot.

Xu Chen watched with his own eyes as the back of Chen Er's head burst apart like a watermelon, brain matter, blood, and shattered skull fragments splattering all over Xu Chen. His world was now a field of scarlet, his ears filled with ringing, his heart pounding like a wildly beaten drum, sweat seeping from his palms until the gun was almost too slippery to hold, his legs heavy as if filled with lead.

"Xu Chen! Xu Chen! Damn your mother!" The voice of the first sergeant platoon leader came from far to near.

Xu Chen felt a kick to his backside—not hard, just enough to make him stumble forward a step and fill Chen Er's vacant spot.

The first sergeant platoon leader roared from behind Xu Chen: "You, surnamed Xu, with that cowardly look of yours, you still want to avenge Lady Mu?"

Before Xu Chen's eyes suddenly appeared the face of Mu Ning, who had taken her own life. Somehow, his soul snapped back into place.

Suddenly, the company commander bellowed, "Raise weapons!"

"Raise weapons!" All the sergeants and lieutenants in the company repeated the order at full volume.

Xu Chen raised his gun to his shoulder, eyes lining up the front sight and rear sight, aiming at the distant Ming troops. Looking at the blurred figures amidst the dust and gunsmoke, inexplicably a flame of rage kindled in his heart, and his whole body trembled slightly.

Xu Chen pulled the trigger with all his might.

Yahei

Fenyuan

Pen