Chapter 501: Chert

The Mountain Pattern Armor Tartar slowly approached, tossed his step bow behind him, took the line spear handed over by a subordinate beside him, unfastened his empty arrow quiver, and casually hurled it at the tallest man on the opposing side. Xu Lengzi on the other side made no attempt to block it, letting the quiver strike his armguard.

Only a few paces remained between the two sides. Although the Qing troops outnumbered them by one, they still closed in very slowly. The Mountain Pattern Armor soldier in the lead kept scrutinizing the tall Heavy Armor Soldier on the other side. This Anqing Heavy Armor Soldier stood on the middle-right; the blade of his crescent axe had several notches chipped into its edge, and the axe face was covered in nearly congealed blood, giving him a ferocious, murderous aura.

The scale armor worn by the Qing troops was highly effective against arrows and slashing weapons, but only average against thrusts. Against blunt-force weapons like blade staffs and crescent axes, the scale armor's defensive effect was very limited, so they were extremely cautious as they closed in.

On the far left, an elite guard shifted two steps toward the outer flank of the Anqing Heavy Infantry formation. With their one-man numerical advantage, they tried to stretch the width to divide the enemy's attention. As he moved, the heavy infantryman on the edge began rotating his body, guarding against two directions at once. His own side's heavy infantry were blocking the field of fire. Wu Dacai, leaning on his self-igniting arquebus, circled around toward the left flank. The ground was littered with dead and wounded soldiers. Wu Dacai planted his gunstock carefully among the corpses as he moved, and by now he could already see the shoulder of the outermost elite guard.

That elite guard, having just rounded the heavy infantry's flank, suddenly spotted Wu Dacai behind them. He immediately halted.

Wu Dacai raised his self-igniting arquebus. The elite guard retreated a step, using the body of an Anqing infantryman to block the field of fire, and at the same time shouted a warning, roughly informing the others that there was an enemy with a firearm. The Mountain Pattern Armor Tartar in the center answered with a shout.

Wu Dacai's stamina was already severely drained. Standing on one leg now, he felt the strain after just a brief moment. Seeing no firing angle, he again used his gunstock as a crutch to move forward.

The Qing soldier on the far left suddenly darted out a step, his entire figure fully exposed, holding a blade staff in one hand while the other hand reached for something at his waist.

Wu Dacai had been on constant alert. The moment the enemy moved, he immediately raised his gun, his fingers swiftly flicking open the priming pan cover. The instant the Tartar stopped, Wu Dacai had already aimed in that direction. The distance was only seven or eight paces. His finger yanked the trigger hook hard. The striking hammer, carrying the chert, flew swiftly toward the steel plate. With a sharp clang, the hammer struck the steel plate. Amid the scattering sparks, the chert shot high into the air, tumbling forward as it flew, and landed between two corpses.

Wu Dacai, standing on one leg, was bracing for the impact of the recoil. Watching the chert fly away, his mind went blank for a moment. He saw the Tartar ahead fling his hand — a bone mace flew from his grip, spinning through the air with a whooshing sound. Wu Dacai had no way to dodge; he could only manage to block with his arm.

With a muffled thud, the bone mace grazed his arm and slammed heavily into the right side of Wu Dacai's chest. Wu Dacai toppled backward.

The Anqing Heavy Infantryman on the flank suddenly lunged forward a step, bringing his blade staff crashing down toward the head of the Tartar who had thrown the mace. The nine Heavy Armor Soldiers on both sides, locked in standoff, all began fighting at once.

Xu Lengzi faced the Mountain Pattern Armor Tartar directly opposite him. He surged forward a step and raised his axe. That Mountain Pattern Armor Tartar was fully prepared and immediately leveled his line spear horizontally to block.

Xu Lengzi suddenly sidestepped, twisted his body half a turn, and swung his axe in a horizontal slash at the Tartar beside him who was wielding a tiger tooth blade.

The Mountain Pattern Armor Tartar reacted swiftly, immediately stepping forward to thrust at Xu Lengzi. The Tartar with the tiger tooth blade was already engaged in combat with another Anqing soldier and had no defense at all against this direction.

A dull thud rang out. The crescent axe, carrying the force of the wind, slashed heavily across the left-side Tartar's waist and ribs. Amid the clattering vibration of scale armor, that Tartar let out a miserable scream, his body instantly curling up like a shrimp.

Xu Lengzi immediately turned sideways after the hit. The Mountain Pattern Armor Tartar's line spear arrived right at his chest. With a clang, it struck. Under the thrust of the line spear's heavy spearhead, the breastplate immediately caved in, but the spearhead lost its momentum after penetrating only a short section. Xu Lengzi's axe was already back at his side.

The Mountain Pattern Armor Tartar clearly had not expected the line spear to fail to inflict damage, but he reacted quickly, immediately retreating to dodge. The heavy infantryman beside Xu Lengzi seized the chance to deliver another heavy staff blow to the curled-up elite guard, striking the elite guard's shoulder blade. The sound of breaking bone immediately followed. The elite guard's whole body convulsed, and he crumpled face-first to the ground.

The others in the formation kept each other in check. After a round of slashing and hacking with various weapons, both sides resumed their standoff. The fallen elite guard lay motionless. The Anqing Heavy Infantryman on the far left, attacked from two sides by Qing soldiers, had his leg bone smashed by a great blade and lay on the ground writhing and groaning incessantly. The elite guard who had thrown the bone mace had also been struck in the arm, forcing him to drop his blade staff and draw the cloud ladder blade at his waist.

The Mountain Pattern Armor Tartar's eyes flickered behind his face armor as he carefully scrutinized Xu Lengzi's armor. Xu Lengzi's breastplate was covered in marks, all left by various weapons, yet it remained a single intact piece — vastly different in appearance from the other scale armor.

Wu Dacai on the ground had collapsed onto a corpse. Only now could he breathe. The slightest movement brought sharp pain to his chest. He laboriously lifted his head and saw four Qing soldiers still standing opposite. Only three Anqing Heavy Infantrymen remained.

At that moment, a cannon blast suddenly sounded from the direction they had entered, followed by faint shouting. Wu Dacai instinctively wanted to turn his head to look, but the moment he twisted, his chest flared with agony, and he immediately abandoned the attempt. He knew that even if he turned, all he would see were the courtyard wall and the spirit screen. But the cannon fire clearly meant the cannon team behind them had arrived and encountered other Qing troops outside.

Wu Dacai's heart tightened with tension. He knew that outside, only one heavy infantryman and a few firearm soldiers remained. Without follow-up support, if they ran into a large group of Tartars, they would be absolutely no match. Once a few more Tartars came in, not a single Anqing soldier here would survive.

The Qing soldiers opposite shouted, this time in a noticeably lower tone. Wu Dacai suddenly realized: the Qing troops were just as worried about that cannon blast. They had no way of knowing whether those coming in would be Ming Army or Qing troops, so they lowered their voices, afraid of attracting new Ming soldiers.

But Wu Dacai knew the Anqing Battalion's forces were thin. The likelihood that those entering were Qing troops was greater.

Wu Dacai froze for a moment, then suddenly pushed himself up with all his strength. A fierce pain immediately struck. Wu Dacai's face flushed bright red, his whole body trembling uncontrollably. Enduring the sharp agony, he finally managed to sit up.

The self-igniting arquebus had fallen right beside him. The bolt securing the chert on the striking hammer had loosened — he didn't know if it had happened during the fall in the alleyway. Fortunately, the bolt was still there.

The second round of combat between the two sides began. The seven men swung their weapons, hacking and slashing at each other. On the left, the two elite guards continued to attack one Anqing Heavy Infantryman from two directions, while Xu Lengzi this time directly attacked the Mountain Pattern Armor Tartar.

Amid the clash of blades came muffled grunts and miserable screams. Wu Dacai saw yet another Anqing soldier swaying, on the verge of collapsing.

Gritting his teeth, he grabbed the fire lance with one hand and threw himself sideways, propping his body up with his uninjured arm. The pain still made him shout out a loud "Ah—!" The battle in the field was at its fiercest; no one paid him any attention.

Dragging the fire lance with one hand, Wu Dacai crawled forward, supporting himself on his elbow. Every single movement brought immense agony.

Figures shifted ahead, but he had no energy to look. That piece of chert lay between two corpses. Wu Dacai summoned all his strength to climb onto the corpse in front of him. His forehead was already covered in bean-sized beads of sweat. Wu Dacai's face turned from red to ashen pale. Sweat slid down like strings of pearls, and the stinging in his eyes from the sweat came in waves of sharp pain.

Wu Dacai gasped heavily for breath, climbing another step onto the corpse. That black piece of chert appeared before his eyes. Wu Dacai strained to reach out his hand, but it was still just a little short.

Another cannon blast sounded from outside, followed by two reports of fire lance shots, and the twanging hum of bowstrings vibrating.

Wu Dacai lifted his gaze slightly. An Anqing soldier ahead had just fallen. The only one still standing was Xu Lengzi. His axe had just withdrawn from a Qing soldier's chest. He staggered a step, seemingly injured in the leg. Before him still stood three Qing soldiers.

The Qing soldier on the left, his injuries worsening, could no longer straighten his upper body, but he still clutched his cloud ladder blade. The Mountain Pattern Armor Tartar, gripping his line spear, made probing thrusts at Xu Lengzi's leg armor.

Wu Dacai drew a breath, pushed off hard with his good foot, and stretched his left arm as far as it would go. He finally touched the chert. Wu Dacai clamped it tightly, enduring the sharp pain that followed as he pulled it back.

The sound of clashing weapons came from ahead. Panting, Wu Dacai felt for the bolt, clamped the chert inside, and then laboriously turned the bolt to secure it.

When it would turn no further, Wu Dacai used the last of his strength to sit up. He saw that the Tartar on the left had fallen, the crescent axe embedded in the top of his helmet. One Tartar had grabbed Xu Lengzi from behind, twisting hard in an attempt to throw him to the ground. Xu Lengzi had drawn his short blade, but the hand holding the blade was firmly pinned by that Tartar, completely unable to move, his body also unable to shift position.

The Mountain Pattern Armor Tartar had switched to a blade staff and was relentlessly smashing it at Xu Lengzi's head and face. Xu Lengzi was powerless to block. Multiple dents had been smashed into his helmet. Two hooks on his face armor had broken, and it now hung askew to one side. With each smash, all three men let out low, guttural roars like wild beasts.

Wu Dacai raised the self-igniting arquebus, forcefully cocking the striking hammer. The chert was fixed in the hammer. The self-igniting arquebus was fully readied and ready to fire.

Suddenly, Wu Dacai saw the empty priming pan. The cover had long since been flicked open, and there was absolutely no priming powder left inside the pan.

Under the Mountain Pattern Armor Tartar's ferocious smashing, Xu Lengzi's helmet was covered in dents.

Wu Dacai's mouth hung open in despair. Though he had only used the fire lance briefly, he knew that without priming powder, it could not be fired. This arquebus was utterly useless. In just a short moment, these two Tartars would kill Xu Lengzi, and then it would be Wu Dacai's turn.

There were still weapons scattered on the ground around him, but Wu Dacai had no strength to pick them up. Even if he got one, he would be absolutely no match for those two Qing soldiers.

Suddenly, a pair of hands reached out from beside him, striking something against the fire lance. Wu Dacai looked over blankly. It was actually that firearm soldier who had been crying for half the day.

This firearm soldier's face was pale. He carried no fire lance of any kind, nor any weapon on his back. Only the copper kettle in his hand shook over the priming pan. The long spout of the kettle clinked repeatedly against the edge of the pan, producing a series of clanging sounds.

This firearm soldier was trembling all over like chaff in a sieve. Gunpowder spilled everywhere. The priming pan was only half-filled. The Mountain Pattern Armor Tartar over there let out an angry roar. The firearm soldier's entire body went rigid, and he collapsed to the ground in a sitting position.

Wu Dacai turned his head to look. Xu Lengzi had been forced against the wall, leaning on it to keep from falling, but his body was already swaying on the verge of collapse.

The Mountain Pattern Armor Tartar was just raising his blade staff. Wu Dacai raised the self-igniting arquebus and aimed it at that Mountain Pattern Armor Tartar. The pain in his chest made his whole body tremble, the muzzle shaking violently.

The blade staff reached its highest point, poised to smash down onto the top of Xu Lengzi's head. Wu Dacai, his face ashen, yanked the trigger hook hard. The energy-storing spring inside the gun body snapped open swiftly, driving the striking hammer down toward the steel plate atop the priming pan. In the crisp sound of impact, a shower of sparks fell into the priming pan, which held only half a pan of priming powder...