Chapter 442: Warlike

The night was deep and dark. On the scout field, shrouded in white gun smoke, the bonfires no longer blazed bright — every glowing thing seemed draped in a layer of gray gauze.

The next moment, out of the shadowy, swirling mist, knights raising their sabers high tore through the curtain and charged forth like demons. Their faces were alight with the thrill of an imminent breakthrough, their bloodthirsty expressions twisted with cruelty.

At a distance of barely twenty meters, what met the cavalry was a frontal wall of three ranks of gleaming bayonets.

And, in addition, a single shouted command: "Open fire."

As the order fell, on both flanks of the bayonet line, twenty inconspicuous figures in colorful camouflage each pulled their triggers.

With a "rat-tat-tat," tongues of flame spat from the gun barrels. The 7.62mm bullets tore through three layers of armor and felt saddle blankets without the slightest hindrance, mowing down the cavalry ranks like scything grass.

The cavalry force, split into two groups and numbering four hundred riders in total, collapsed like two lines of dominoes. Blood, weapons, and severed limbs flew ceaselessly through the air — men thrown, horses overturned, the ground littered with corpses.

The entire shooting process lasted only as long as two magazines.

Because they used heavy barrels and 7.62mm ammunition, the MK17 Rifles, compared to the lightweight assault rifles of later generations, not only had a slightly slower rate of fire but also only twenty-round magazines.

Even so, within just a few minutes, the largest single expenditure of ammunition since the Transmigrators had come to this New World was produced: forty team members fired a total of sixteen hundred assault rifle bullets.

So many bullets simply swept every single Tartar Soldier on the scout field clean away, not one missed.

The scene fell briefly, utterly still.

Then, immediately, huge wails and agonized screams erupted from the mouths of the wounded on the ground, interspersed with the piercing neighs of horses and the gurgling rush of flowing blood.

Du Dewei, snapping back to his senses, hurriedly raised his megaphone according to the contingency plan and shouted: "All units, assault! Watch out for fires."

Because ancient cities were all built of wood, setting fires was a common method of destruction. Rioting soldiers, invaders, and military strongmen locked in seesaw battles loved doing this sort of thing: before abandoning a captured city, they'd torch it with a single blaze.

This was done, first, to cover up the crimes they'd committed inside the city, and second, to strike at the enemy's war potential, making it impossible for their opponent to recover in a short time.

In the pre-battle arrangements, preventing the Tartar Soldiers from starting fires had likewise been elevated to a very high priority by the Transmigrators. All soldiers participating in the battle were told: any fire must be extinguished the first moment it appears, even if it means letting the enemy escape.

This response was necessary: if the enemy fled, there were still cavalry outside responsible for blocking them; but if Santunying Fortress erupted in towering flames, then Zunhua and Luanzhou at either end of the corridor would certainly see it, and the Transmigrators' follow-up plan would be ruined.

Therefore, once the Tartar main force was annihilated, Du Dewei, coming to his senses, immediately ordered the troops to assault toward the back government offices.

Upon receiving the order, the soldiers swiftly began their charge. The Special Operations Team members wearing Night Vision Devices were in front, the Guard Battalion soldiers with fixed bayonets behind, likewise splitting into two streams and rounding the front hall.

At this moment, just as the Transmigrators had anticipated, scattered flames were already rising from the Back Residence of the General Headquarters.

The remaining hundred-plus Bondservants had originally been following behind their Banner's Great Lords, preparing to clean up the battlefield — a job they knew well. But after seeing the Great Lords, clad in thick armor, get mowed down like chopping melons and vegetables, the Bondservants were utterly terrified out of their wits, scattering in a panic, ready to flee for their lives.

In the process, it was inevitable that some panicked men would carelessly toss their torches aside, and a few fires flared up. So when the troops pushed into the Back Residence, the Guard Battalion soldiers focused most of their energy on extinguishing the flames.

As a result, even though the Special Operations Team members were shooting in all directions, several dozen scattered Bondservants on horseback still managed to escape through the back gate.

The man leading the Bondservants in their desperate flight was none other than the doggedly lucky Niru Erzhen, Su Hetai.

For some unknown reason, Su Hetai, ordinarily peerless in valor, had, when commanding the cavalry charge just moments before, deliberately or otherwise fallen to the rear of the formation.

Perhaps the string of muzzle flashes at the gate had shocked him too greatly... In his haste, he could not explain that eerie scene at the gate to anyone else, but he still instinctively acted in his own self-interest.

Events proved him correct: the elite of two Niru were killed by the dense hail of gunfire in the space of a few breaths. Only Su Hetai, who had been prepared, had lifted his feet from the stirrups in advance, allowing him to leap clear of his bullet-riddled horse and save his own life.

After stripping off his heavy armor as he ran, the utterly terrified Su Hetai, with the help of his Bondservants, mounted another horse. Then he shouted, "The Ming dogs are devilish! Flee quickly, and report to the Beile Lord!" and led the group in escape...

Although, objectively speaking, Su Hetai's desire to report information about this strange enemy force to his superiors was correct, in reality, he was now thoroughly terrified. Someone who hasn't experienced it simply cannot comprehend that kind of helplessness and fear — this was not an opponent that could be overcome through martial valor.

Leading the group as they charged out the back gate, Su Hetai, whose mind was still relatively clear, split the remaining men into two groups, each heading in opposite directions — toward the East Gate and the West Gate.

The northern city wall had no gate, and these demonic foes had entered through Nanmen, so now only the two gates that didn't require lowering a drawbridge were the sole places offering a chance to escape alive.

After sending half the men toward the West Gate, Su Hetai drove his horse frantically with the remaining Bondservants, and before long, they reached the East Gate.

At this time, according to reports from the overhead drone, pursuers were closing in from both the direction of Nanmen and the General Headquarters. Gunshots rang out from far away, bullets whizzed past, and from time to time, men tumbled from their horses.

Yet Su Hetai's group of a few dozen seized this tiny window of opportunity, sending men to dismount and lift the heavy bar of the East Gate.

With several loyal Bondservants pushing desperately, the East Gate slowly creaked open a crack amidst groaning sounds. Immediately after, the twenty-odd survivors, led by Su Hetai, buried their heads and charged out toward life.

Outside the East Gate was the moat. In peacetime, there would have been a pontoon bridge across it. Of course, at this moment, there was naturally no bridge at all, so the narrow-escape squad had to rely on their superb individual horsemanship to leap across this moat, which was only a little over two meters wide, in a single bound.

Fortunately, Su Hetai was not only familiar with the terrain but also possessed exquisite riding skill. Amid the bullets whizzing overhead, he crouched low, burying his whole body behind his horse's neck, while slightly raising his head to stare intently at the ground ahead of his horse's hooves.

Just after passing through the gate and running no more than a couple of steps, Su Hetai, leading the charge, saw the glimmering water of the moat before his horse's hooves.

In the nick of time, he let out a explosive shout, straightened up, and yanked hard on the reins. His steed just barely managed to leap into the air and clear the moat.

The next moment, Comrade Su Hetai, having successfully vaulted the final barrier, opened his mouth wide and reined in his horse — not far directly ahead of him, two ranks of knights, front and back, raising torches and sabers high, were slowly spurring their mounts into motion, their faces alight with the excitement of a chicken about to be slaughtered.

"Since when did the Ming people become so warlike?"

That was Su Hetai's final thought before he was hacked to death.