Chapter 413: A Personal Grudge

"Boom-boom-boom-boom..."

The chestnut-colored gunpowder, a fleeting flash in history born at the wrong time, now played to its slow-burning strength, detonating steadily inside the long-barreled heavy cannon best suited to it and hurling a round iron ball weighing over ten kilograms out of the muzzle.

Thirty-two powerful, forceful booms rang out in succession, hammering into people's hearts like heavy mallets; close behind came thick smoke and blazing fire belching from the cannon barrels.

At a firing range of less than three hundred meters, the trajectory ran almost in a straight line — the next moment, thirty-two iron balls smashed viciously into the Xu Residence.

A rolling chain of "boom" crashes followed.

The outer wall of the Xu Residence was the first to suffer. The ancient wall, cast from green brick and rice paste, could not stop the shells at all; as great clouds of dust and rumbling erupted, sections of wall either collapsed or were punched clean through.

The main gate of the Xu Residence — painted with a full panel of green lacquer, studded with brass nails, proclaiming the master's illustrious pedigree — came under saturation bombardment in the very first moment.

Amid flying tiles and splintered wood, the gate canopy burst apart, beams and pillars snapped, and the two doors, never once opened, first came crashing down with a roar, revealing the wealthy, stately gentry household behind them.

After the first salvo, no obstacles remained between the fleet and the Xu Residence; the onlookers had long since fled, stumbling and crawling, weeping for their fathers and wailing for their mothers, until every last one had scattered.

The second salvo followed immediately.

Still the deafening roar, still the beautiful, continuous jets of white smoke and flame from the broadside — officials and commoners standing atop the county city wall now all gaped, stunned into wooden silence by the magnificent visual and audio spectacle before their eyes.

In the second salvo, the main victim was the front courtyard of the Xu mansion. Since the outer wall, main gate, and sedan hall had already been smashed open or collapsed in the first salvo, this round of shells passed straight through those areas and plunged into the front court.

Naturally, the buildings in the front court could not withstand it either. After a volley of shells, gaping holes appeared in many walls of the main hall; the council chamber, furnished with Grand Preceptor chairs and large vases, its walls hung with famous paintings, was smashed into a wreck scene the next moment — bright, gaping holes and fallen rafters, broken tiles from the roof utterly destroying every furnishing.

As if a long time had passed, or as if only an instant, the third salvo came hard on its heels.

This salvo, perhaps because the muzzles had been elevated slightly, sent the shells straight into the central courtyard.

After this came the fourth salvo, the fifth, the sixth...

The magnificent bombardment lasted ten full salvos in all, pouring a total of 3.5 tons of shells into the Xu mansion.

No wonder the Navy is such a money-devouring beast — 3.5 tons of refined iron shells, all fired off in barely an hour; it was hardly different from handing out gifts.

And the Xu Residence, having received the Transmigrators' grand gift, had now become a byword for shattered ruins. Not only had many of its towers, halls, and chambers collapsed, but even more walls stood riddled with glaring, gaping holes; add the roof tiles and debris covering the ground, the broken porcelain and smashed chairs, and it was a post-apocalyptic scene of devastation straight out of a painting.

After the great battle came silence.

When the muzzles no longer spat smoke and slowly withdrew behind the gunports, silence fell over the billowing Huangpu River, silence fell over the county seat's Guanxiang, and silence fell over the city wall as well — even though crowds already packed both sides of the city gate.

The crowd that had been desperately crying, shoving, and begging for the gates to open quieted down too. Everyone silently watched that giant ship, blue-hulled and traced with gold lines, anxiously awaiting its next move.

What next? After showing off, naturally you run — what else?

Amid a rushing clatter, the anchor chain rose, mud sluicing down; black smoke billowed up again; the sails bellied taut; the fleet slowly turned, traced a great circle on the river, waved a hand, and vanished without taking a single wisp of cloud... leaving Shanghai County 320 iron eggs rich in commemorative significance.

The moment the sightseeing fleet withdrew back outside Zhangsu Port, this operation could be considered a complete success.

This shore bombardment mission was a forceful weakening, within the bounds of the rules, of the Jiangnan landlord class's authority by the Transmigrators. Though the 320 iron balls injured no one, the immense power they embodied had been fully displayed in the heartland of the hostile faction.

From this day forward, whether the stubborn, hidebound landlord class or the numb, unfeeling peasantry at the bottom, all would be stirred by this living educational program. Every witness inside and outside the county seat that day, and everyone who later visited the shattered ruins, would no longer be able to turn a blind eye to this power.

Just like the Opium War of old, a stagnant medieval society was forcibly blasted open by cannon shells, triggering a sea change in hearts and minds. After this, some might grow even more obstinate and reactionary, but there would likewise be those willing to open their eyes and look at the world.

What the Transmigrators did today, while tearing away their opponent's flimsy shell,

was also to hammer in a nail of thought along the way.

This was a subtle investment and suggestion. In the future, when natural and man-made calamities scoured the Jiangnan land time and again, many would naturally recall this scene today, recall this power, and thus set foot on the path of "seeking power."

For every additional person who did so, the conservative faction's base would shrink by a fraction, until the day of social transformation arrived, and the Transmigrators could settle everything at the lowest cost.

After showing off, the fleet swiftly left the scene of the deed, but that was mainly to quell public unrest and quickly calm the situation — not because Regional Commander Cao feared anyone.

So Regional Commander Cao next held his position at the Zhangsu Port Authority Building and began waiting for the waves of accusers who would come knocking.

The first to arrive was, naturally, Chongming Thousand-Household Commander Yu Fugui. Upon learning that Lord Cao had shelled Shanghai County, the terrified Yu Fugui first thought Pirate Cao had rebelled, and wailed in camp that his life was forfeit.

Then, after finding out the truth, Thousand-Household Commander Yu was still scared out of his wits: theoretically, that fleet had sailed to Shanghai County from his own defense zone, and his side had even sent someone ahead to deliver a message. Now that this fellow Cao had done such an appalling thing, he, Yu, was certainly implicated too.

And so Thousand-Household Commander Yu came knocking to demand an accounting.

But at his rank, the so-called "accounting" was a joke. Has anyone ever seen an accounting delivered on one's knees? "Who is the man in the hall, and whom does he accuse — this official?"

So Thousand-Household Commander Yu, who had come to demand an accounting, was sent away by Regional Commander Cao in just a few words: "This is a personal grudge; it does not concern you. As for the aftermath, this general will bear full responsibility and will not make things difficult for you, Thousand-Household Commander Yu. Attendants, see to a reward."

Thousand-Household Commander Yu was thus dismissed; it hadn't even taken five minutes.

The second to come knocking was, naturally, Shanghai County Magistrate Chen Changyun. As the local parent-official, whatever the inside story, Magistrate Chen was bound to seek justice for his people.

Regional Commander Cao's side did not slight him; after greetings, salutes, and tea, the Regional Commander poured out to Magistrate Chen all the sordid business between those villainous gentry and his own enterprises, then spread his hands in great grievance: "What was I to do?"

Unexpectedly, Magistrate Chen refused to take that bait: "Hmph, even so, for Your Excellency to sail a great ship into the Huangpu and bombard a civilian residence with cannon — in over two hundred years of the Great Ming, such a reckless and outrageous act is unheard of. As the local parent-official, I am charged with defending this land; an impeachment memorial will be on its way to Beijing shortly."

Zhang Dongdong sneered at this: "Civil officials impeaching military officers is common enough; Parent-Official Chen may do as he pleases. It's just that His Majesty is currently besieged in Beijing and likely has no mind to read your impeachment."

"Hmph, that is none of Lord Cao's concern. This humble official takes his leave."

"No need to see you out!"

And so Shanghai County and Regional Commander Cao parted on bad terms.

Next, theoretically, Songjiang Prefecture should have sent someone to denounce and interrogate him. However, for reasons everyone knew, Songjiang's Fang Yuegong played deaf and mute on the matter; apart from sending a bland, toothless dispatch to make a perfunctory inquiry, there was no further word.

After the first wave of backlash, it was not long before the second wave arrived.

Although the Transmigrators had deliberately controlled the intensity of the shore bombardment, avoiding anything that could be used against them, such as mass slaughter, the affair was, after all, too fantastical — the Great Ming's most stable heartland, Jiangnan, had actually been blasted inside out by the giant ships of one of "their own"?

So when the entire South Zhili, and Nanjing in particular, learned the news, a stream of sternly worded official dispatches and envoys soon came knocking. These parties included, but were not limited to, the Nanjing Garrison Eunuch, the Nanjing Duke of Wei's estate, the Nanjing Ministry of War, the Yingtian Governor's Office, and the Nanjing Embroidered Uniform Guard, which had long since turned hostile toward Regional Commander Cao.

Every one of these offices, which held the military and political power of South Zhili, expressed exceptionally grave concern over the incident: this time you, Cao Chuan, could "slip" into the Huangpu River — what about next time? Will you turn hostile and "fight" your way to the walls of Nanjing? What exactly are you trying to do, you bastard Cao?

So Zhang Dongdong's side embarked on a grueling round of explanation and communication, but it was no use — a large batch of impeachment memorials were still on their way to Beijing.

After all, Ming officials were no fools — this penetration incident had further blackened the already mistrusted name of the recruited-and-amnestied Regional Commander Pirate Cao; the entire upper officialdom of South Zhili was now extremely wary of him, and some military deployments, including river defenses, had begun slow adjustments and reinforcement.

This time, the Transmigrators' black cannon barrels had truly jabbed the grandees right in the lung.

Fortunately, all this backlash was within the Transmigrators' pre-planned contingencies, so Regional Commander Cao's side did not lose its footing. While doing the work of explanation, he also sent lavish gifts to the various bigwigs as best he could: on official business, everyone had fallen out this time, but personal relationships still needed maintaining — after all, out of blows friendship grows, and no one would pick a fight with a Marlboro lighter, right?

While this side was busy with damage control, the three ships selected to sail north were also straining to resupply.

Since the sea route between Shanghai and Tianjin was a full thousand kilometers, and there were no resupply points along the way on this northward journey, the motor sailboats had to load as much supplies as possible to cross the long sea passage.

The most important of the supplies was coal.

With coal, the fleet had the confidence to transform at the critical moment, so this time even the decks were piled high with coal sacks — somewhat like the Russian fleet before the Battle of Tsushima.

Fortunately in this plane, the enemies to the north won't have gunboats, and there won't be any Japan fleet in the Tsushima Strait, so piling a few Coal packs on the deck is still fine.