Chapter 409: The Great Ship Plows the Sea, Ambush Lurks in the Reeds

In the distance, the Great Xia fleet continued its relentless bombardment.

The outer perimeter of the Denglai naval stockade had been almost completely smashed to pieces, with multiple sections of the stockade wall collapsed.

The warships temporarily moored beneath the wall had been nearly wiped out—only a dozen or so remained drifting on the water, their crews having long since abandoned ship and fled ashore, escaping without a trace.

Throughout it all, the red barbarian cannons atop the stockade wall kept firing at the Xia forces.

Every ship had suffered light damage; one fourth-rate Ming-class vessel took a hit to its temporary gunpowder storage and was badly wounded, withdrawing from the battle.

But overall, the stockade wall mounted only a dozen or so red barbarian cannons, while the Great Xia fleet alone had over two hundred guns on a single broadside—the disparity in firepower was simply too great, and the Great Xia fleet was able to rely on its sheer advantage in firepower to steadily suppress the shore-defense guns atop the wall.

After roughly half an hour of bombardment, the gun positions on the stockade wall had been almost completely destroyed.

Zhang Tao led his men down from the wall and set up defenses around the drill ground and the Regional Commander's residence.

Just then, the cannon fire out at sea ceased, and a battered Denglai naval launch came rowing toward the stockade.

A white flag flew from the boat.

Zhang Tao ordered his men to cease fire and let the launch come in.

The Fujian junk reached shore, and three wounded Ming soldiers disembarked, asking where Zhang Tao was.

The three men were soaked through, with fresh wounds on their bodies—clearly they had been wounded, fallen into the water, captured by the Xia forces, and sent back to deliver a message.

Zhang Tao had the three men brought before him, and grinding his teeth, he said: "What do those sea bandits have to say?"

One of the wounded Ming soldiers trembled and said in a low voice: "They asked where the envoy mission was. They demand we hand over the envoy Ji Bai, along with his crew and ships—otherwise—"

The wounded soldier dared not continue, but the meaning was perfectly clear.

The Xia forces were willing to press the attack even against the fire of the shore-defense guns—that showed their resolve. If the men could not be produced, it was only a matter of time before the entire stockade was razed to the ground.

But the Great Xia envoy mission had long since gone to see the Dragon King. How could Zhang Tao possibly produce them?

His face betrayed nothing as he pondered, but inside his regret was churning like a storm. Had he known the envoy was such an important figure, he should have spared his life.

Otherwise, he wouldn't now be facing an enemy army at his gates with not a single card in his hand.

But then again—the envoy had been killed yesterday, and the Great Xia fleet had come knocking today. That was far too fast, as if a trap had been set and he had walked right into it.

At this point, regret was useless. With the sea and land routes cut off, his hope of defecting to the Great Qing and trading for a glorious future was also gone. All he could do now was find a way to save his own skin.

Zhang Tao thought for a moment, then decided on a delaying tactic. He said: "Go back and tell them that at this time tomorrow, I will personally escort the Great Xia envoy mission back."

The wounded soldier dared not raise his head, and said in a small voice: "They said they would only give half an hour. If they don't see the men within half an hour, they'll consider the envoy dead, and the en—entire Denglai naval force will have to follow—"

"This is going too far!" Garrison Commander Wang Wuwei of the naval camp was furious, but after the anger passed, he made no further show of it.

That the Great Xia was invincible at sea was common knowledge. To engage them on the water rashly would be no different from walking to one's death.

Colonel Yu Guoxiang said: "Regional Commander, under the circumstances, our only option is to abandon the stockade and march west. The—the Great Qing's Two White Banners are still in Beizhili; we can go and join them."

The flesh on Zhang Tao's face twitched uncontrollably. The naval force was his stepping stone to promotion and wealth once he reached the Great Qing—abandoning it hurt worse than cutting out his own flesh.

After hesitating a moment, he gritted his teeth and said: "Then that's what we'll do! Pass the order to all camps: take only weapons and gold and silver. Leave the tents and baggage untouched. Break camp and march immediately!"

Leaving the tents and baggage untouched would maximally confuse the enemy, making it impossible for them to tell that the camp was being abandoned in flight.

As for where the army would sleep and what they would eat once they had no tents or provisions—

Shandong and Beizhili were densely populated, with villages and farmsteads everywhere. With swords and spears in hand, why worry about food, drink, or shelter along the way?

"Yes, sir!" The officers saluted with cupped fists and dispersed to their separate tasks.

All of Zhang Tao's arrangements were made behind the wounded soldier's back. Only after the officers had dispersed did Zhang Tao call the wounded soldier to his side and say: "Go back and tell the Great Xia commanders to wait a moment. I am arranging crews and counting the envoy mission's numbers, and will send the men back immediately."

The wounded soldier acknowledged the order, boarded the boat, and went to deliver the message.

On the deck of the Zhulong, Bai Qing and a crowd of naval staff officers and commanders were raising telescopes, watching the movements of the Denglai naval stockade intently.

They were using the latest naval telescopes produced by the glassworks—magnifying up to eight times, with bodies of brass, waterproof and shock-resistant, and lenses ground by Glassmaker Sun's own disciples. The image was crystal clear; within several li, sails and human figures could be distinguished with perfect clarity, far surpassing the shoddy knockoffs previously bought from Luzon.

In the pale green field of the telescope, everything inside the stockade seemed close enough to touch.

The lookout reported: "Enemy troops in the stockade are assembling."

Faced with an absolute crushing superiority, the Ming army had not handed over the envoy but instead was assembling its soldiers in formation—the intent needed no further explanation.

Combined with the interrogation of captured Ming soldiers, the officers also knew of Zhang Tao's killing of Sun Yuanhua to seize power.

Putting it all together, Ji Bai's fate was already sealed—little chance of survival, almost certainly dead.

The deck fell silent for a moment.

Meng Tingchuan saluted heavily with cupped fists and said through gritted teeth: "Commander, I volunteer to lead troops ashore and slaughter the entire stockade, avenging Bureau Secretary Ji!"

He was the commander of the Great Xia's Liaodong naval forces, and Ji Bai had been a Bureau Secretary dispatched by the Foreign Affairs Office to Liaodong. The two had once traveled together on a diplomatic mission to the Ji Dynasty, and shared a bond forged in life-and-death circumstances.

Though Meng Tingchuan had nearly been killed by him back in those days, so many years had passed since—the two of them had spent their days on Jiao Island trading jokes and banter, and had long since forgotten that bit of unpleasantness.

Now his good brother had died horribly at the hands of a petty villain, and the fury in Meng Tingchuan's chest was nearly hot enough to burn through the deck. He wished he could tear the murderer limb from limb.

Besides Meng Tingchuan, the other officers and staff also saluted with cupped fists, saying in unison: "Commander, give the order!"

"Commander, with Sun Yuanhua dead, Zhang Tao bears a deep blood grudge against our state and will surely defect to the enemy. Per the General Staff's orders, he must be annihilated!"

"Commander, let's open fire!"

Bai Qing looked out at the sea. The Ming messenger's launch had not yet rowed even half the distance back. She raised her telescope again for a look—only the three wounded soldiers were aboard, no sign of Ji Bai.

Bai Qing lowered the telescope and took a deep breath: "Pass my order: the fleet will fire from two hundred paces offshore, avenging the Great Xia envoy mission!"

The officers acknowledged in unison.

Meng Tingchuan kept volunteering for battle, so Bai Qing said to him: "I've already sent three hundred men of the Dongjiang Battalion to lie in ambush along the Huangshui line. Since you insist on avenging your brother with your own hands, go there!"

Meng Tingchuan saluted Bai Qing solemnly with cupped fists: "Thank you, Commander!"

Then, without using the gangway, he leaped straight from the ship into the sea, churning up a spray of white foam, and when he surfaced again he was already clinging to the side of an eagle boat.

The eagle boat's crew hauled Meng Tingchuan aboard, and the vessel then sped westward.

The helmsman of the Zhulong shouted: "Half wheel to port, port side to the wind! Hoist sail!"

The two helmsmen worked in tandem, the wheel spinning rapidly: "Half wheel to port!"

The sail-trimmer's voice came down from the mast.

"Fore main sail, full sail!"

"Main topsail, full sail!"

On the gun deck, the gunnery chief roared: "Solid shot, load it up!"

The Candle Dragon slowly picked up speed, carving a graceful arc across the sea surface, the hull heeling to starboard as the planking and deck groaned and creaked.

On the raft, the Ming soldiers who had been straining at the oars stared at the sight, frozen stiff.

"What—what does this mean? Has half an hour already passed?"

The other two Ming soldiers shouted: "Row faster! Get out of the way!"

Only then did the wounded soldier snap back to his senses and row with all his might. Moments later, they barely veered clear of the Candle Dragon's course.

Had they delayed even a moment longer, this little raft would have been ground to powder.

The three men's arms were nearly spent. They looked up dazedly at the Candle Dragon, feeling as though a mountain had sailed right over their heads.

The towering bulwarks blotted out the sky; as it drew near, even the daylight above the three men's heads dimmed.

The wake thrown up by the Candle Dragon's passage slammed into them, rocking the little raft violently.

Behind the Candle Dragon came the Tianyuan, then the Zheng He, and two Ming-class fourth-rate ships—all of them giants of the sea, their masts and rigging reaching into the clouds.

The three men were dumbstruck, utterly shaken. Only after the line of battle had sailed past did they snap out of it.

One of them said: "Are we still delivering the message or not?"

Another cursed angrily: "Deliver my ass! Let's run for our lives—I don't want to be buried with the naval stockade!"

Inside the naval stockade, troops were still mustering.

To be fair, the Denglai naval forces had a foundation laid by Yuan Keli and Shen Yourong, and later Sun Yuanhua had painstakingly added equipment and invited drill instructors. Facing the Great Xia fleet sailing up to their faces and opening fire, they should not have been entirely helpless.

But Zhang Tao had launched a mutiny last night, killing the Governor and the Regional Commander, leaving the army anxious and morale low.

On top of that, he had pulled his own confidants in to serve as mid- and low-level officers, so the soldiers did not know their commanders, and the commanders did not know their soldiers.

Forget fighting the enemy—even forming up to retreat was sloppy and sluggish.

Many soldiers were lugging bundles of belongings, unwilling to part with even their bedding and worn-out shoes and socks.

Soldiers from several shao units were even brawling over a few copper coins and a few sacks of millet.

The scene was utter chaos.

Just as Zhang Tao's head was throbbing, the soldier on lookout atop the roof stammered: "Regional Commander, the enemy fleet is coming!"

"What? Has half an hour already passed?" Panic seized Zhang Tao's heart. He looked out at the sea and saw the Xia warships less than three hundred paces from shore.

The Candle Dragon's bow split the waves, sails spread wide, truly like a fierce tiger with its mane bristling.

Zhang Tao said: "Garrison Commander Wang, take three shao of soldiers and set up gun emplacements on the beachhead! Mobile Corps Commander Yu, have the soldiers who have finished forming up march out of the stockade at once!"

"At your command." The two men relayed orders and made arrangements as Zhang Tao had instructed.

Moments later, the lookout suddenly screamed in terror: "Incoming fire! Incoming fire!"

The next instant, cannon thunder rolled across the sea like muffled peals of thunder.

The shot flew straight over the stockade walls, smashing into the barracks, watchtowers, and drill grounds inside.

In an instant, wooden beams snapped, bricks and stones flew in every direction, dust billowed—the earth seemed to split and the mountains to crumble.

The stockade's defenders had already been on edge; the sudden bombardment threw them into complete disarray.

Many soldiers broke ranks and fled in every direction. In the confusion, the very soldiers who had been fighting over loot moments before now drew their blades and hacked at one another.

Visibility plummeted in the dust. The remaining soldiers could not see what was happening—they only heard the sounds of blades being drawn and killing cries around them. Believing the Xia troops had charged into camp, they drew their weapons in terror and slashed defensively.

The formation fell apart further and further.

Officers shouted themselves hoarse trying to restore order, but to no avail. The situation deteriorated with baffling speed.

"Put down your blades! Stop! You pack of idiots! Stop!" A newly promoted Company Commander roared at his men who had lost control, but no one listened to him.

In a fury, the Company Commander swung his blade and cut down a soldier who was fleeing the ranks.

A spray of blood burst forth. The soldier let out a scream and collapsed on the drill ground.

That was like poking a hornet's nest. Someone shouted: "Enemy soldiers! Kill them!"

The entire unit went mad as one, swinging their blades wildly in every direction. Within moments, more than a dozen men lay dead at their comrades' hands.

Blood splattered down, turning the drill ground into dark red mire.

The Company Commander panicked and shouted for them to stop, but it was too late. Not only did his men not rein themselves in—they hacked with ever greater ferocity. He turned and ran.

The moment he turned, he came face to face with a Ming soldier swinging a blade at him. The soldier's face was twisted and savage, his strike utterly merciless—the blade sank deep into the Company Commander's skull.

The Company Commander watched blood stream down in front of his eyes, scared out of his wits. He shrieked—which only drew more Ming soldiers. Several goose-feather sabers stabbed down at once, and the Company Commander breathed his last.

Before the Regional Commander's residence, the quartermaster officer Zhang Pengyi witnessed the scene, his face deathly pale. He stammered: "Regional Commander, the camp has mutinied!"

Zhang Tao nearly ground his teeth to powder. If he could not take the Denglai naval forces with him either, his position and power after surrendering to the Qing would sink even further.

By now, the regret and hatred in his heart had reached their peak—like a wildfire burning at the bottom of his chest, threatening to consume him whole.

But things had come to this; he had to act decisively. Without another word, he abandoned the crowd and burst into the Regional Commander's study. Amid the ledgers of money and grain,

the warship blueprints, and the gold, silver, and treasure, he hesitated briefly—but in the end, he opened the bookcase and stuffed the various documents into his robes.

Gold and silver could only guarantee a few meals; these documents would be of great use to the Jianzhou barbarians. Only by presenting the books as a merit and continuing to serve as an official could he secure a lifetime of wealth and honor.

Zhang Tao called in several trusted subordinates and personal guards, had each of them stuff documents into their robes, then mounted the warhorse from the Regional Commander's stables and rode out in grand style.

Just then, Wang Wuwei, who had been tasked with setting up the beachhead gun emplacements, came back covered in dust and defeat.

"Regional Commander, the rebel firepower is too strong! The three shao of soldiers hauling the guns lost their nerve and scattered! Regional Commander—"

Zhang Tao, mounted on his horse, merely cast a cold glance at Wang Wuwei. Then he gave the reins a shake and galloped out through the stockade's west gate.

His personal guards spurred their horses and followed behind.

The Denglai naval stockade was located on the Jiaodong Peninsula, with the sea to the north. To the east lay Weihai Garrison—surrounded by water on three sides, there was no escape in that direction.

To the south lay Danya Mountain and Qixia Mountain.

There was only one road left—flee west.

By the time Wang Wuwei reacted, Zhang Tao had already vanished without a trace. He burst into a torrent of curses, and after venting, ordered his personal guards to find horses and gather valuables from his own residence.

An hour later, the bombardment ended. They waited another half hour for the dust to settle.

The Denglai naval stockade had been pounded into a stretch of bare white ground. Drill grounds and barracks were littered everywhere with Ming soldiers' corpses—scarcely a living soul in sight.

The Chongzhen Emperor treasured the Denglai naval forces like a jewel, preferring to sacrifice Lu Xiangsheng rather than deploy them.

Yet when it came to a real fight, they were annihilated in half a day, without even managing a single proper resistance.

At noon, Zhang Tao had already ridden more than twenty li. Hearing the distant cannon fire gradually cease, he steadied his helmet, urged his horse up a small hill, and turned back to gaze.

In the direction of the Denglai naval stockade, several columns of black smoke rose into the sky—no doubt already seized by Great Xia.

Thinking of how he had built up connections, lands, and wealth in Denglai over many years, all lost in a single stroke, his heart ached as if bleeding.

He looked behind him—fewer than twenty personal guards followed, all with incomplete armor, some even having lost their weapons, their chests stuffed bulging with ledgers and charts—a veritable pack of stray dogs.

Zhang Tao burned with shame and fury, hatred surging within him. He silently resolved that when he rose again one day, today's humiliation and the blood-debt of his exterminated household—

—would all be repaid with interest!

One personal guard rode forward, pointing into the distance: "Commander, ahead is Huangshui. Once we cross it, we can pass between Laishan and Dunquan Mountain, ride to Zhaoyuan, then to Laizhou. After that it's all overland—we'll be safe."

Zhang Tao suppressed his rage, turned his horse, and said: "Move!"

The troop of riders followed the official road toward Huangshui.

It was now mid-spring. Reeds on both banks of Huangshui were putting forth fresh green shoots; a clear breeze passed, and green waves rippled.

Zhang Tao gave the area a cursory glance, saw no sign of an ambush, and took the lead in finding a shallow ford to cross the river.

The river water was biting cold. Zhang Tao's boots were soaked through, and he shivered—but for the sake of survival, he could only endure.

Suddenly, movement sounded from the reed marshes on both banks.

"Ambush——"

Before he could finish, a volley of gunfire erupted from the reeds, and Zhang Tao's men were cut down in a row.

War horses screamed as they were hit, collapsing into the river and being swept downstream.

One personal guard got his foot caught in the stirrup, submerged in the river and unable to catch his breath. The ledgers and charts stuffed in his chest soaked through, growing heavier and heavier. After choking down several mouthfuls of water, he could no longer move—and was drowned alive in water only waist-deep.

Zhang Tao was already a bird startled by the mere twang of a bowstring. At the first sound of gunfire, he furiously whipped his horse to flee. He had barely gone two steps when a rope stretched taut across the ground ahead.

The horse couldn't dodge in time—its forelegs tripped, sending horse and rider crashing to the ground with several dull thuds of breaking bones and snapping sinews. The horse's right foreleg was shattered, and it could not rise again.

Zhang Tao broke several ribs and was pinned beneath the horse. He struggled several times but could not free himself, hearing only the unending sounds of pleas for mercy and the hacking of blades.

After a moment, the sounds gradually ceased.

Meng Tingchuan walked up to Zhang Tao holding a wild-goose saber, blood still dripping steadily from the blade's tip.

Zhang Tao laboriously raised his upper body and saw that he was surrounded by soldiers in crow-blue uniforms, along with several personal guards taken prisoner, blood trickling from their mouths and bruises swelling on their faces.

"He's Zhang Tao! He's the one who killed the Grand Coordinator and the Regional Commander—right! He's also the one who ordered your envoys killed."

"Oh?" Meng Tingchuan's killing intent blazed as he fixed his gaze on Zhang Tao. He slashed open the man's chest garments with his blood-stained wild-goose saber, revealing the documents stuffed inside.

The Denglai naval forces' organization register, the complete Liaodong sea route chart, the red barbarian cannon casting blueprints, the grain and pay ledgers——

Everything Zhang Tao had stuffed on his person were critical documents. He had meant to personally safeguard these valuables—but now they only served to confirm his identity.

Zhang Tao endured the searing pain and forced a fawning smile: "Misunderstanding, misunderstanding! I thought he was a Tartar envoy——it's all Sun Yuanhua's fault, telling him to pose as a Liaodong man to throw people off—what a petty villain——ah!"

He was cut off mid-sentence as Meng Tingchuan's blade severed two of his fingers.

Zhang Tao screamed in agony, cold sweat pouring from his forehead, his hand twitching uncontrollably, yet he forced himself to continue: "It's true, I swear——ah!"

Another scream followed as the rest of that palm was chopped off.

Zhang Tao's face was as pale as gold paper, his lips trembling, unable to make a sound, on the verge of fainting.

Meng Tingchuan said in an icy voice: "Army medic, stop his bleeding!"

The medic reflexively reached for his wound-sealing medicine, then thought better of it and put it away. He pulled out two hemp ropes and, with several soldiers helping, bound them tightly around Zhang Tao's upper arms.

"General, I've sealed the blood vessels in both his arms. He won't die for a while yet."

Indeed, Zhang Tao's wounds soon stopped bleeding—though both arms swelled up completely.

He recovered some of his senses and cursed: "Fuck your mothers! If you've got the guts, kill me in one stroke—ah—ah——"

Zhang Tao's other hand was also severed. Sweat poured from his forehead like rain. He truly could neither die nor live now.

He said in a voice as faint as a thread: "Stop! Spare me——right, prisoner policy! I'm a prisoner of war—you have to treat prisoners well——"

Kong Youde had been watching with great relish. Hearing this, he immediately said: "Brother Meng, I didn't see a thing. What did you all see?"

The rest of the Dongjiang camp soldiers all shook their heads.

"Fuck your mother! Fuck all your mothers! Kill me—kill me now! Ah——"

Meng Tingchuan's face was utterly expressionless as he muttered to himself: "This one's for Iron Pillar, this one's for Tuesday, this one's for Big Monkey——"

The names he recited were those of Ji Bai's crewmen. For every name he spoke, he brought the blade down on Zhang Tao's arms.

Soon the white of bone was visible on both arms.

Even the old Dongjiang veterans, hardened to bloodshed, could not bear to watch for long.

"This is for Brother Ji——and this is also for Brother Ji——"

After cutting once for each man, Meng Tingchuan kept lingering on Brother Ji, adding another seven or eight cuts in quick succession.

Zhang Tao fainted from pain several times, only to be jolted awake again. His spirit had completely collapsed. He banged the back of his head against the ground with heavy thuds, hoping Meng Tingchuan would grant him a quick death.

Meng Tingchuan's face remained cold and unmoved throughout. He only stopped when Zhang Tao had bled to death.

He severed Zhang Tao's head, walked alone to the bank of Huangshui, and gazed toward the direction where the river flowed into the sea, murmuring: "Brother, I've killed this dog of a villain! If you can know in the underworld, you can rest in peace now."

With that, Meng Tingchuan kicked Zhang Tao's head into the river and watched it wash out to sea.

Recalling how Ji Bai had been ready to die for righteousness on his first mission to the Yi dynasty—only to fail at dying then, and finally perish at the hands of such vermin—Meng Tingchuan felt heaven was cruelly toying with men.

Just then, Kong Youde said in a low voice: "Brother! Brother, come back quickly—another troop of riders is charging at us!"

Meng Tingchuan steadied himself, gripped his blade, and slipped back into the reeds, saying to Kong Youde: "Not one of them gets away!"

Kong Youde grinned. "Easy enough!"

Meanwhile, at the naval stockade, the North Sea detachment sent men ashore to sweep the battlefield.

Bai Qing wrote up the annihilation of the Denglai naval force as a battle report, sent it back to Guangzhou by falcon boat, and dispatched numerous hawk boats to watch the enemy's movements at Tianjin.

Wiping out the entire Denglai fleet had cost almost no effort—tactically a perfect victory—but it also exposed the North Sea Fleet's position and intentions, leaving them strategically on the back foot.

With the situation north of the Yellow River as volatile as it was, too many variables made outcomes unpredictable.

If they were to land in the capital region afterward, it had to be a lightning campaign; any delay would surely bring sudden upheaval.

Once the falcon boat received the report, it immediately set course for Guangzhou at full speed. To get the frontline news to Guangzhou as fast as possible, the falcon boat even risked the open sea route, sailing day and night without rest.

Just as the falcon boat was cleaving through the waves—

The senior civil and military leadership of Daxia had gathered in the General Staff headquarters for a joint military-political conference, and the shouting was nearly lifting the roof off the building.

The heart of the debate was the route of the northern expedition.

The General Staff had worked out three possible routes: south, north, and center.

The southern route was the most conservative and safest: cross the Yangtze from its lower reaches and march north, passing through South Zhili, Henan, and Shandong, all the way to take the capital.

This route made logistics easy along the way and made it simple to commit troops; even in the worst case, if the army lost, it could still withdraw in good order back to Jiangnan.

The central route was somewhat riskier: coordinate the army and navy, land in the capital region, take Tianjin Guard and Tongzhou, then strike straight for the capital.

The northern route carried the greatest risk of all—landing directly at Jin Prefecture, Fu Prefecture, or Zhenjiang, then driving straight into the Jianzhou barbarians' lair!

Compared with the southern and central routes, the northern plan offered no advantages, picked a fight with a formidable enemy for no reason, and would hand the Central Plains to Li Zicheng on a silver platter—the moment it was proposed, the civil officials denounced it in unison.

In the end, the dispute came down to the central and southern routes.

The arguments in the meeting grew so heated that they nearly came to blows, and no resolution could be reached.

Pen