Chapter 628: Night Visit

The Oil Barrel Cannon's first volley ended after firing only three powder packs.

When the South Yue reinforcements arrived in front of the fort, they found the stone fort reduced to a pile of rubble. Even more horrifying, after a few miserable howls, most of the previous defenders had bled from all seven orifices and been shaken to death on the spot — it could be called total annihilation.

This bizarre scene caused the defenders' morale to plummet.

Next, after observing that the defenders had replenished their numbers, the oil barrel fired two more shots.

Without exception, none of the defenders within the gunpowder blast's lethal radius escaped alive — all were shaken to death.

A wide-area killing method that ignored defensive fortifications and left the defenders completely unable to retaliate caused the South Yue troops' morale to rapidly collapse.

The core bastion at the front of the battle line was now reduced to rubble. This time, no matter how the officers drove them, no soldier would go serve as a defender again.

Soon, the officers no longer needed to worry. Because not long after, the Oil Barrel Cannon tossed a few more explosive packs over from another location.

Unlike mortars that often weighed several tons, the Oil Barrel Cannon was, plainly speaking, just an oil barrel — extremely easy to move around lightly. This was still to give the Vietnamese a concept of a "House Guardian Treasure" being expensive and rare; otherwise, a certain power base could effortlessly array several dozen of them in front of the formation and fire at once.

And so, the previously extremely difficult battle came to an abrupt end in a jaw-dropping fashion. By evening, just as Sheng Nan had boasted earlier, the Northern Vietnam army slowly crossed the Second Defense Line, which had been blasted flat, and arrived under the city of Shunhua.

By this point, it was visible to the naked eye that the South Yue separatist regime's cause was already lost. Although there was still one last hastily constructed defense line under Shunhua's walls, whether this line could hold until tomorrow morning — every soldier from Prince Zheng on down in Northern Vietnam maintained an optimistic attitude about that.

Where some were optimistic, others were pessimistic.

While the Northern Vietnamese were wild with joy, inside the South Yue Royal Palace in Shunhua, chaos had already erupted. The third-generation leader of the South Yue regime, the Duke of Renguo, Ruan Fuyuan, clad in soft armor, sat looking utterly dejected at the civil and military officials quarreling below the throne.

Speaking of the South Yue Ruan Clan, like other states throughout history, its founding generation was bound to be composed of outstanding individuals.

Ruan Fuyuan's grandfather, Ruan Huang, had already plotted secession back when he was stationed in Shunhua as a general of the Lê Dynasty. Before Ruan Huang passed away 0 years ago, he admonished his clansmen: "Shun(hua) and Guang(nan) have the peril of Hengshan and the Ling River to the north, and the strongholds of Haiyun Stele Mountain to the south. The mountains yield gold and iron, the seas produce fish and salt — truly a land for heroes to wield their might. If we can train the people and sharpen our troops to contend with the Zheng Clan, we can establish a legacy of ten thousand generations."

From then on, the Ruan Clan followed this guiding principle and began implementing their secession in the south.

By the time it passed to Ruan Fuyuan's generation, open war with the Northern Zheng overlord formally began over the secession.

Historically, Ruan Fuyuan reigned for years, during which he organized a standing army of fewer than ten thousand and withstood seven large-scale "pacification" wars from the Northern Zheng Clan, each exceeding one hundred thousand men, forcefully carving out a century-long separatist situation that the north tacitly accepted — a considerable military achievement.

In this timeline, however, everything had been thrown into chaos by a barrel — an oil barrel.

At this moment, inside the South Yue Royal Palace, the terrified ministers were already discussing how to "surrender" with dignity, showing no regard for the Duke's thoughts upon the throne.

The Duke himself seemed to have lost his fighting spirit as well, merely speechless, his expression gloomy as he pondered something unknown.

It couldn't be helped; one couldn't blame everyone for changing their minds so quickly — the battle had simply collapsed too fast.

Most of those who had previously visited the defense line were now in a state of psychological collapse. Seventeenth-century people had no concept of "area-effect killing." Seeing those patches of soldiers instantly dying in agony and the defensive works blasted into the air, anyone would feel terror; this had surpassed most people's understanding of war.

Furthermore, what was most disheartening now was that the soldiers were all scared out of their wits and could not be mobilized. That is to say, the entire command system of the South Yue army had effectively failed. This point was the fundamental reason the civil and military elites had "abandoned their illusions" and prepared to surrender.

However, surrendering also had its technical requirements.

Everyone present, civil and military alike, knew that if they didn't settle all the matters tonight, it would be too late once the Northern Vietnam army began attacking the city tomorrow morning. Surrendering on the eve of battle, defecting before the formation, and revolting in advance — there were distinctions, and they would affect one's future treatment as a cadre.

The only person everyone felt sorry for was the Duke. After all, if others were sensible, they could still preserve their lives and property, but for the Duke, as the "chief rebel," escaping calamity at the hands of the Northern Vietnamese — well, the technical difficulty was rather high.

Yet now that things had come to this, when disaster strikes, everyone flees for themselves. Everyone had been greatly stimulated today and could no longer care about so much. At this moment, the atmosphere in the great hall was abnormal; everyone was panicked, blaming and cursing each other, a chaotic scene as if doomsday had arrived.

Unexpectedly, the next moment, the Duke seated high above suddenly spoke.

Ruan Fuyuan's face was ashen; he had probably finally digested the reality. He sighed and said: "Enough. Now that things have come to this, we must not lose our composure. Even if we surrender, we must act collectively — far better than being butchered piecemeal. You are all men who have served as ministers and generals; can you not see this clearly?"

Once the Duke spoke, everyone below fell silent, then felt relieved — they had been waiting for those very words from you, old sir!

The next moment, the civil and military officials began clamoring again with a cacophony of voices: this time, they were internally electing representatives to go out of the city and negotiate.

Seeing that these worthless men had utterly lost their composure, Ruan Fuyuan was truly speechless this time. He could only give a bitter laugh: "So be it. Every family for itself."

After saying this, he shook his head and beckoned over the Imperial Guard General, his own nephew, who had been standing beside him all along. He whispered into his ear: "I will stall them here. You go quickly to the courier hostel and invite those Frank merchants to the rear hall. Do not make a sound."

Seeing his nephew's some lack of understanding, Ruan Fuyuan explained helplessly: "At this point, do you still not know whose power those Northerners borrowed? Fool! Now, if we want to preserve the lives and property of our Ruan Clan, no one is reliable — it all rests solely on the Franks!"

——————————————————————————————

At nightfall, the Northern Vietnam Military Camp pitched under the city of Shunhua was bustling with noise.

First, having endured countless hardships to finally reach the walls of Shunhua, everyone was inevitably a bit excited.

Second, shortly after dark, the north gate of Shunhua opened wide. The South Dynasty sent out a surrender negotiation team composed of several high ministers and a few Frank merchants. Thus, guided by countless torches and under the watchful eyes of the crowd, they proceeded to Prince Zheng's Central Army Tent.

This scene further confirmed people's speculations. All soldiers in the North Camp knew that the war was likely about to end.

And so it was. At this moment, the Central Army Tent was brightly lit. Zheng Zhuang, his face glowing with satisfaction and pride, was chatting and laughing merrily with the visitors.

It must be said, most of these power-holders from the northern and southern courts had previously served as ministers together in the same hall during the Later Lê Dynasty, so they were mostly old acquaintances and communicated without any barrier.

As for the content of the negotiations between both sides, it was actually obvious, so there was no need for any verbal sparring.

In the East Asian Confucian cultural sphere, the process for requesting surrender had been routinized for thousands of years. It was nothing more than opening the city gates and handing over the land, revenue, and population registers, after which the defeated would await the victor's judgment, using the merit of surrendering the city to seek lenient treatment.

To realize his long-cherished wish today, Prince Zheng had naturally been anticipating this for a long time, and he had long prepared a plan for how to respond.

In the Prince's vision, after entering the city tomorrow, most matters could be handled according to the usual routine. Only for the Ruan Clan, which had stubbornly resisted the Zheng Clan for N years, and a group of core officers in the South Yue Forbidden Army — Prince Zheng truly hated them to the bone, had long drawn up a list, and certainly would not let them off.

The several ministers who came to negotiate naturally understood Prince Zheng's thoughts — this thought was probably understood by any educated man — so both sides tacitly understood and deliberately avoided discussing the Ruan Clan's fate.

In this way, the negotiation process was greatly accelerated. The several high ministers of the surrender delegation happily reached an agreement with Prince Zheng: early tomorrow morning, Shunhua would voluntarily open its gates.

Prince Zheng promised: The Southerners are all subjects of our Great Lê Dynasty (he had not yet rebelled). As long as they open the city and bow to the new master, they shall suffer no harm whatsoever.

Thus, both sides were thoroughly pleased. After finishing their official business, the surrender delegation members even left behind an old minister to drink and reminisce with old colleagues, preparing for an all-night chat.

Prince Zheng readily agreed.

At this moment, among the several Frank merchants who had originally come as mere mascots, one also made a request: he wanted to take this opportunity to visit a certain Dutch merchant friend of his.

He was a foreign guest, after all, so his request would naturally be granted.

And so, this red-haired Portuguese man named Na Qiao was politely escorted by a dedicated person to the rear of the defense line, to the Dutch merchants' exclusive tent area in the Jiangnan Camp, where he met the Dutch merchant Laro, with whom he had previously partnered in trade.

That night, under Laro's guidance, Na Qiao stealthily entered a separate camp and met the target of his visit: Sheng Nan, Commander Sheng.

Sheng Nan, for his part, did not seem surprised by Na Qiao's visit, as could be seen from the tea leaves and spring water he had long prepared.

"Had I known, I would have brewed coffee. I thought a native was coming to see me."

After pouring ample tea into the green tea mug before Na Qiao, Sheng Nan smiled and said: "Mr. Na Qiao from Aveiro, welcome to my camp as a guest. Now, you may state your purpose."

The reason Na Qiao had been entrusted with a heavy sum and an important mission to penetrate deep into the enemy camp tonight was that he had spent many years in Xiamen and could speak fluent Chinese.

"General Sheng, time is pressing. I can only bluntly ask you to give me an answer."

The next moment, Na Qiao bowed slightly forward, then said nervously, "The employer behind me wishes to know, what price must he pay to preserve his current power and position?"

Sheng Nan smiled with playful interest. "The Duke of Ruan still hasn't given up? At this stage, he still wants power?"

"My employer has already learned everything about the Great Ming's Earl Cao in detail from the Frankish commercial organization, so before my departure I received one judgment from my employer: you will be sure to extend a helping hand to him."

At this point, Na Qiao smiled with full confidence. "After all, military strongmen think alike, do they not, my lord?"