Chapter 455: God of War

The soldier waiting at the cannon's mouth immediately stuffed a white cloth bag into the muzzle, shouting at the same time, "Powder loaded!"

The cannoneer holding the ramrod thrust it hard into the muzzle, ensuring the powder bag was fully seated before withdrawing the ramrod. "Powder tamped!"

A two-and-a-half-jin iron shot was pushed into the muzzle, and the cannoneer bellowed, "Shot loaded!"

The ramrod entered again, pressing the cannonball all the way down. "Shot tamped, solid shot ready!"

The cannoneer at the rear simultaneously stabbed a spike into the fire gate, wiggled it left and right, then shouted, "Powder bag pierced."

Next, he opened a copper kettle, tilted its spout, and poured priming powder with a soft patter onto the fire gate. His left hand held a square cloth covering the fire gate. "Priming powder loaded, weatherproof cloth in place, solid shot cannon ready!"

The shouts of several men echoed across the square, as if afraid no one would hear them. Qin Jiuze and Manda'er watched the cannoneers with odd expressions. The cannons in Xuanfu were much larger than those in Anqing, yet they had never seen such shouting and yelling there.

But these cannoneers moved with lightning speed, their loading motions simple, the whole crew working in seamless coordination. The loader had already picked up a new powder bag in preparation, and the swabber had switched back to the cleaning rod, ready to begin a new loading cycle the moment the shot was fired. They were countless times faster than the artillery in Xuanfu.

The cannon beside them had also finished loading. After the cannoneer reported the cannon ready, the Artillery Chief turned his head to look at Zeng Baci. The Artillery Chief's face was covered in burn scars, giving him a somewhat ferocious appearance.

Zeng Baci, in his short jacket, was in no hurry to fire. He first inspected the cannon's breech carefully, slightly adjusting its height so that the barrel was nearly parallel to the ground. Then he raised a telescope to observe East Street. Only then did Manda'er notice he was holding a length of fire rope in his hand, with a rattan shield placed beside him.

Manda'er turned his head toward the street entrance. A row of gleaming Qing soldiers blanketed the street, with dense ranks of Dark-Armor Soldiers behind them. He drew a sharp breath and said, "So many Bright Armor Tartars."

Qin Jiuze stood on tiptoe to look. There were roughly three or four rows of elite guard, totaling around twenty-some men. They filled the street, still awaiting their commander's orders.

The first row had seven men, three of whom carried bows. They spotted the firearm soldiers on the stage at Cross Street and immediately shouted back. Several Dark-Armor Tartars came forward to the roadside and began tearing down door panels.

A few Qing soldiers with bows stepped into the alley first, drew their bows, and shot toward the stage.

Bowstrings twanged on East Street. Light arrows traced low arcs across the sky above East Street. Zeng Baci grabbed the rattan shield beside him and held it in front of his body, simultaneously shielding the cannoneer at the fire gate. The loader took up another rattan shield to cover the swabber.

Arrows whistled past the intersection. The Qing soldiers shooting from the street gradually increased in number. When they realized the artillery had rattan shields, they shifted their targets to the densely packed musketeers on the stage. Light arrows flew toward the stage one after another.

The Martial Academy's Firearm Team had not prepared rattan shields, and the stage was empty and bare, offering no cover. Several musketeers were struck by arrows in quick succession. The stage instantly descended into chaos. Fire lances banged wildly, tiles on the East Street side cracked and clattered, and one Qing soldier was hit in the leg by a bullet and collapsed to the ground.

White smoke blanketed the stage, obscuring vision. Arrows continued to fly in. The musketeers collided with each other as they dodged, unable to complete their loading, and they also blocked the mounted archers on the stage from shooting. Yang Guangdi saw the Banner Commander raise his bow twice, only to be jostled aside by musketeers both times. Even the Heavy Armor Soldiers arrayed in formation below the side of the stage stirred restlessly; some could not help but turn their heads to look at those bedraggled musketeers.

"Artillery, stand by!"

Zeng Baci's tone was low and deep, but his volume was noticeably louder than before. Clearly, the chaos in the Field Artillery Test Team was causing the troops' morale to waver, and he needed to raise his voice to hold the artillery's attention.

The eight artillerymen stood around the small bronze cannon, motionless, each holding their tools. Arrows flew past them; occasionally, a light arrow thudded into a rattan shield, but the cannoneers never moved. The swabber even had his back to East Street, relying entirely on the loader's rattan shield for cover.

Qin Jiuze and the others' eyes darted constantly between the cannon crew, the stage, and the Qing soldiers. The musketeers' performance on stage was about the same as those in Xuanfu. In the eyes of point scouts like them, firearm soldiers always drew the lowest monthly pay, ate the least rations, and carried all sorts of battered fire lances. They were the least reliable in battle.

The moment these musketeers came under attack, they would immediately fire wildly. Then, in the ensuing chaos, they could hardly ever complete a proper reload. After that, their rate of fire would slow to a crawl, posing almost no further threat to the Qing forces. In the confusion, someone was bound to overfill with gunpowder. Typically, within three volleys, a barrel would burst. Once a barrel burst, the entire team of musketeers could rout on their own, even triggering the collapse of other battle lines.

This team of musketeers on the stage fit their impression perfectly. They were also the most unreliable among the Anqing Army soldiers they had seen. From what they had observed so far, Anqing's infantry retainers were the strongest; the mounted retainers were passable.

The only area where Anqing's musketeers were better than those of Xuan-Da was that they had not suddenly fled in rout. They were all still trying to find ways to fight back, and their loading speed seemed slightly faster. No one's barrel had burst yet, but the two men figured it was only a matter of time.

But the two cannon crews were clearly different from the artillery of Xuan-Da. Exactly where the difference lay, Manda'er could not put his finger on. If this were Xuan-Da artillery, they would have opened fire long ago.

"Artillery, stand by!" Zeng Baci shouted again. "Don't fire until the Tartars enter the street!"

A furious roar erupted from the entrance of East Street, followed by the dense sound of marching footsteps. Manda'er poked his head out from the corner of the wall. He saw a door panel held at the very front, behind it three rows of silver armor and helmets, and further back, the Dark-Armor Tartars. The alleys were packed with bobbing heads, and all manner of heavy weapons swayed above the ranks.

This batch of Qing soldiers even had their face armor polished to a mirror shine. At the Tartar officer's bellowed command, the silver-white battle line advanced toward Cross Street with an unstoppable, ferocious momentum.

From the entrance of East Street to the stage was only a little over fifty paces. The Qing formation quickly entered the alley of East Street, drawing steadily closer to Cross Street.

Qin Jiuze breathed heavily. The scene before his eyes was exactly like that on the battlefield at Jiazhuang — the silver formation advancing head-on toward Lu Doutang.

More fire lances discharged from the stage. Two puffs of wood splinters burst from the door panel, but it was not penetrated. The arrows shot by the mounted archers were all blocked by the door panel as well.

A row of iron masks painted with demonic faces appeared above the door panel. The front-row Qing soldiers brandished their weapons, seemingly enraged at being ambushed by the Ming Army. Their roars of fury echoed through the street, like a horde of demons surging forward.

The Qing soldiers reached forty paces. Zeng Baci, holding up his rattan shield, blew on the fire rope in his hand but still did not give the order to fire.

The two men kept turning their heads to look at the artillery, while also keeping an eye on the Iron Armor Soldiers standing by. According to their expectations, the cannon would fire one shot and then be done; it could not stop so many Qing soldiers. The Iron-Armor Retainers would have to fight it out afterward, and the mounted archers would have to continue serving as light infantry. A bloody battle was surely about to follow.

Manda'er felt for the throwing axe at his waist and gripped it tightly. His eyes flicked back and forth between the artillery and the Qing soldiers. He did not expect this small cannon to drive back the Qing troops, but it would be good if it could kill a few White Armor soldiers. What worried him more, though, was a barrel burst — after all, they were much closer to the small cannon than the Qing soldiers were.

Zeng Baci shouted, "Fire gate open..."

The cannoneer covering the fire gate immediately moved his hand away, revealing the recessed fire gate. The cannon beside them did the same.

Qin Jiuze and Manda'er instinctively retreated a step northward. By now, the Qing soldiers had advanced within thirty paces, their formation filling East Street.

Zeng Baci suddenly bellowed, "Fire!"

The fire rope in his hand pressed down onto the fire gate. Sparks flashed at the fire gate. The small bronze cannon roared, spewing thick white smoke from both its fire gate and muzzle simultaneously. A dark blur shot out from the white smoke at the muzzle, hurtling straight toward the silver Qing soldiers fifty paces away.

Crack! A crisp, shattering sound. The door panel at the very front tore open with a massive hole, as if it were made of paper. Wood splinters flew everywhere. Immediately after, a muffled thud — the shoulder of the elite guard behind the breach suddenly exploded, bursting into a cloud of pink blood mist. Silvery-white scales mixed with chunks of flesh shot through the blood mist, spraying densely into the air and then raining down behind with a pattering sound.

The two-and-a-half-jin iron shot tore through three rows of the formation. Shattered weapons and helmets spun at the edges of the blood mist. The furious roars of the Qing soldiers ceased abruptly. The second cannonball followed right on its heels. The door panel burst into countless fragments with a bang, breaking into two pieces that clattered to the ground. The surrounding Qing soldiers screamed and toppled over in disarray. The front ranks were a scene of devastation in the blink of an eye, and the formation ground to a halt.

The cannon crew, which had been still just moments before, sprang into motion as if a switch had been flipped, moving even faster than before. Their shouted calls were several times louder in pitch.

"Swabbed!"

"Powder loaded!"

"Powder tamped!"

The loader even threw aside his rattan shield. He shoved a two-and-a-half-jin iron shot into the muzzle with both hands, then swiftly raised the shield again. "Shot loaded!"

The swabber rammed it down with lightning speed, howling before the ramrod was even withdrawn, "Shot tamped, solid shot ready!"

The cannoneer at the rear shouted almost simultaneously, "Priming powder loaded, solid shot cannon ready!"

Manda'er stared, dumbfounded. The cannon crew before him operated like a precision machine. In almost the blink of an eye, a cannon was loaded and ready again. He had never imagined a cannon could be this fast.

Zeng Baci did not wait an instant. The fire rope in his hand touched the fire gate again, and before Manda'er's very eyes, the cannonball hurtled toward East Street.

Flesh and blood flew through the chaotic Qing formation. Severed limbs bounced between the walls and wooden boards on either side of the alley. A helmeted head spun through the air, flying far backward.

Manda'er watched the scene at the street from the corner of the wall. His breathing was rapid, veins bulging on his face. His right hand gripped the wooden handle of the throwing axe so tightly that his knuckles turned white. Qin Jiuze's mouth hung wide open. Although white smoke obscured his vision, he could still tell that the once-majestic silver battle line had been completely shattered.

More rapid, clipped commands came from beside them. Before Qin Jiuze could recover his senses, he heard another shout from nearby: "Canister shot, cannon ready!"

Two thunderous roars boomed in his ears. Dense clouds of dust and smoke erupted from the alley of East Street. The shop signboard hanging across the street was instantly riddled with bullet holes. Tiles and wooden boards clattered down. The chaotic front ranks of the Qing soldiers screamed in unison, writhing and collapsing into pools of blood that covered the ground.

The short stretch of East Street had become a meat grinder. The ground was littered with dead and wounded Qing soldiers. The first three rows of White Armor Soldiers were torn to pieces, and the Dark-Armor formation behind them was riddled with gaps. A few Qing soldiers were shooting arrows aimlessly, like headless flies. Several arrows came flying through the gunsmoke, lacking both force and accuracy, clattering onto the stone slabs in front of the small cannon.

The cannon crew began operating like a machine once more. This time, Qin Jiuze saw clearly: what they were loading was not an iron ball, but a projectile wrapped in rope, bulging with many small lumps, with a wooden sabot at its base.

"Canister shot, cannon ready!"

The two small cannons roared again, spewing thick white smoke into East Street. Visibility became extremely poor; only the shrill, agonized screams from the direction of the street entrance could be heard.

The musketeers on the stage also caught their breath and fired raggedly toward East Street. Finally, after one more cannon shot, Zeng Baci ordered a ceasefire. Only the cleaning crews picked up their cleaning rods to cool the barrel, which emitted hissing white steam.

From within the white smoke blanketing East Street came waves of agonized screams and groans, along with panicked shouts fading into the distance. No more arrows flew over.

Qin Jiuze and Mandar looked at each other in dismay. From the first shot to the completion of the fifth, it had felt like only the briefest instant.

The two stared at that small cannon as if it were a monster. By all appearances, this small cannon still looked utterly unimpressive. Then Mandar turned his head to look at the pile of corpses on North Street. He could now be fairly certain that pile of corpses was also the work of this small cannon.

After a long moment, he turned back to stare at Yang Guangdi. He licked his lips. "Your family's artillery…"