Chapter 205: Cold Sweat on the Dragon Throne

This……what sorcery is this?! He had never seen a firearm; since the defeat of the Three Garrisons Jiedushi by the Khitan, the Wang Family's firearms had never reappeared, and many had long forgotten them.

Han Wei's mind went blank. He had read military manuals, knew there were bows and arrows, and crossbow mechanisms, but even the strongest divine arm bow could not, at a distance of several hundred paces, produce such a terrifying sight.

However, this was only the beginning.

The first rank of soldiers finished firing, immediately stepped back to reload. The second rank stepped forward and raised their firearms again.

"Fire!"

"Bang bang bang bang bang——!"

Another volley!

The poor target ship, under a dense rain of shot, was riddled with holes; the mast on deck cracked with a "crack!" and collapsed heavily onto the deck.

Just as everyone was terrified by the firepower, their hands and feet turning cold, an even more terrifying sound rang out.

"Woo——"

A sharp, long whistle came from behind the position.

Han Wei stared in shock, seeing behind the infantry ten massive iron cannons as thick as water tanks! Each required a dozen or so soldiers working together to move.

At that moment, the muzzle of one iron cannon was emitting green smoke.

He followed that green smoke, instinctively looking up at the sky.

A huge black dot traced a terrifying arc in the air, accompanied by a death‑god‑like howl, and slammed hard into the already‑wobbling target ship.

"Boom——!!!"

This time, it was not just wood chips flying.

The entire target ship seemed to be slapped hard amidships; its massive hull, in an indescribable roar, instantly split into two! Countless burning fragments were flung tens of zhang high into the air, then scattered like fireworks and fell into the river.

In the blink of an eye, a sturdy warship was… gone!

Dead silence.

On the official road, a deathly silence.

All those from Kaifeng, whether the arrogant Imperial Guards or the learned officials, were now like chickens with their throats choked, mouths open but unable to utter a sound; their faces showed only one expression—fear.

Just then, a clear laugh came from the direction of Yangzhou's city gate.

"Oh dear, I'm so sorry, so sorry!"

Only to see Wang Che riding a divine white horse, followed by Wang Hao likewise on horseback, and several hundred Wang Family guards, approaching unhurriedly.

He wore an enthusiastic, even slightly apologetic smile, as if the world‑shattering scene just now had nothing to do with him.

"Official Wang Che greets the Princess! Greets Commander Han! Greets all the envoys!" He dismounted, bowed deeply toward the phoenix palanquin and Han Wei and the others.

"Just now we were conducting a firearms drill outside the city, mainly to guard against sea pirates; the commotion got a bit loud—did it disturb you, sirs and the Princess?"

He put on an "innocent" face and asked: "Yangzhou faces the sea, it's not peaceful, so our Wang Family prepared some forces to make a show of strength. This welcome ceremony—are you satisfied, sirs?"

Han Wei's lips trembled; he couldn't utter a word.

"Satisfied? I'll satisfy your ancestors!"

Now he finally understood why the Wang Family dared to show him the steam engine.

Because compared to these "firecrackers" that can blast a warship to pieces in an instant, that iron lump that only pumps water is practically a harmless toy!

A slender jade hand lightly lifted a corner of the phoenix palanquin's curtain.

On the Princess of Yongning's exquisitely beautiful face, there was not a trace of color. Through the gap, she gazed at the man standing not far away, smiling like a sunny youth—the "Marquis of Investigating Things"—and in her lovely phoenix eyes flickered an indescribable complexity.

This is her future husband.

This is the person the emperor sent her to monitor.

Kaifeng, the imperial palace, the study.

Night was deep, yet Zhao Kuangyin could not sleep. Alone, he sat on the dragon throne symbolizing supreme power, clutching tightly an urgent report just sent from Yangzhou eight hundred li away.

The letter was written by Han Wei himself.

Every word on it stabbed hard into his heart.

"... volley fire of firearms, thunderous sound, at a hundred paces the hull pierced like a sieve… when the great cannon roared, heaven and earth shook; wherever the shot struck, a ten‑thousand‑catty warship shattered instantly… they have now withdrawn to a preceding city to rest, not daring to enter Yangzhou."

The further Zhao Kuangyin read, the more his hand shook; finally, the entire sheet of paper rustled in his grasp.

Having spent half his life in war, what great battle had he not seen? At the Battle of Gaoping, facing tens of thousands of Khitan cavalry charging head‑on, he hadn't blinked.

But now he was afraid. He had once heard of the Wang Family's firearms and cannons, but with time he had long forgotten them.

Now a bone‑deep chill rose from his soles straight to his crown.

He sprang to his feet, pacing anxiously in the spacious study; the precious carpet underfoot squeaked with each step.

Firearms… great cannons…

These words were like a spell, swirling in his mind.

Closing his eyes, he could picture the scene: the Great Song Imperial Guards he prided himself on, clad in heavy armor, shields raised, ranks neat, shouting as they charged forward.

Meanwhile, opposite them, the Wang Family troops merely stood in a few rows, slowly raising those black‑holed iron tubes.

"Bang bang bang!"

Rank after rank of Imperial Guard soldiers fell like cut wheat, collapsing in swaths. Their armor and shields, before this unheard‑of weapon, were as fragile as paper.

Before they could even reach the enemy line, their great cannons boomed again.

"Boom!"

One after another, huge iron shells screamed into the ranks; each impact plowed a gory trench through flesh and blood.

"Huff… huff…" Zhao Kuangyin's breathing grew heavy, and without realizing it, his forehead was covered in cold sweat.

He had thought the Wang Family only possessed that steam engine; thus he planned to use a sturdy net—imperial power, marriage alliances, division—to envelop it and gradually tighten.

But now he realized what they held was not a spear at all.

It was an axe capable of cleaving heaven and earth!

And he, that self-conceited hunter, is standing bare-handed before this giant axe.

"Wang Che..." Zhao Kuangyin forced the name out from between his teeth.

He recalled the youth Han Wei described in the letter.

Amid the heaven-destroying, earth-extinguishing cannon fire, the youth, riding a white horse, asked them with a beaming smile: "Is this welcome ceremony still satisfactory to you, sirs?"

How arrogant! How insolent!

"You bully people too much! You bully people too much!" Zhao Kuangyin slammed his fist onto the imperial desk. The hard pear-wood tabletop let out a pained groan.

Kill!

We must kill them!

A thought madly sprouted in his heart.

At any cost, mobilize the nation's troops to besiege Yangzhou! Fill it with human lives! Even if ten or twenty thousand die, we must utterly erase that damned place from the map!

His eyes, from anger and fear, turned completely blood-red.

"Come!" he hoarsely shouted.

"Your Majesty." An aged and steady voice came from the shadows of the study.