Chapter 133: Shock

Listening to the drumbeats from the opposite side, Zhou Shao'er's heart began pounding wildly. The two ranks of arquebusiers who had just finished firing were retreating past him toward the rear. Behind the breastwork, two more ranks were still crouching. The firearms squad leader did not even glance at the oncoming Jianzhou bandits; his face was turned to the side, watching the signal flag of the Vice Battalion Commander on the flank.

Zhou Shao'er poked his head out. The view ahead was excellent. Rows of shields were advancing, some still painted with vivid patterns of fierce beasts. He forced out a mouthful of saliva to moisten his parched throat. Behind him, Chen Ying was breathing heavily. This Dongjiang soldier had just shot and killed a Mongol rider at the breach. Zhou Shao'er saw him carve a notch onto his waist tally, probably still keeping count of how many lives the Jianzhou bandits owed his family. At that moment, Zhong Laosi spoke to the men beside him: "Once we deploy, push the wall down first."

Zhou Shao'er nodded vigorously. His gaze passed over the heads of the two crouching ranks of arquebusiers and fell upon that breastwork. Wood and stone were exposed in the earth. The inner side had not been doused with water at all; a few men working together could push it over. The assault team's charge would not be hindered by the breastwork.

Chen Xin had never intended to just passively take a beating. All the breastworks on the front face had only been lightly doused with water on the outer side, giving them a deceptively solid appearance, making the Jianzhou bandits believe that Wendeng Camp would only defend. Now, the Jianzhou bandits had left only a hundred Mongols from the Left and Right Camps on each of their flanks. In Chen Xin's view, while they were being cautious, they still held him in extreme contempt — and that contempt was exactly what he intended to exploit.

The Jianzhou bandits' shield formation slowly advanced to sixty paces, maintaining a generally orderly battle line. The long spears and great blades of the rear ranks stood tall, like a moving forest. Behind the left, center, and right battle lines were mounted reserve units. In particular, the reserve unit on the Jianzhou bandits' right wing was clad entirely in silver-white armor — these were the very Bayara the Dongjiang soldiers had repeatedly emphasized. Every one of these men was a veteran of many years, with consummate combat skills, excellent equipment, and unwavering resolve.

Beside Chen Xin, Liu Pojun's face was flushed red. Staring at the dense mass of men opposite, a deep hatred blazed in his eyes. The years of suffering after the fall of Liaodong flashed before him, scene after scene.

The Jianzhou bandits cautiously advanced onto the frozen ground, drawing closer and closer to the fifty-pace distance marker.

Chen Xin's voice rang out beside them: "Crouching Tiger cannons, ready! Third and fourth firearms squads, ready! Assault team, ready!"

Liu Pojun shouted hoarsely: "Fire the order signal cannon! Trumpeters, prepare! Shawm players, prepare!"

With a boom, the order signal cannon fired. The eyes of every commanding officer turned toward the central army, awaiting the command that would decide the fate of countless men.

The fifty-pace marker was obscured by the Jianzhou bandits' battle line. Chen Xin bellowed: "Crouching Tiger cannons, fire!"

"Trumpeters, blow the shawms!"

The two shawm players simultaneously sounded the harsh, grating shawms. The noise carried over the battle troops and spread across the entire line.

All twenty Crouching Tiger cannons along the Wendeng Camp front erupted with a thunderous roar. Eight ounces of gunpowder per cannon transformed into brilliant red flame and thick white smoke, hurling a total of one thousand one-ounce pellets and twenty heavy iron balls across the two-hundred-pace-wide Later Jin battle line. The layers of lead shot scrambled over each other as they burst from the muzzles, slowly spreading apart, then crashed into shield after shield like a dense rainstorm. They easily tore through cowhide and wood, flattening into thin discs before hammering into the armor of the soldiers behind the shields like iron maces.

The front ranks of the Later Jin forces collapsed like grass struck by a fierce gale. Over a hundred armored soldiers toppled in unison. Countless arrows of blood sprayed from their bodies, and countless screams rose at the same time. The sudden blow threw the other armored soldiers into chaos. The once-intact shield line was shattered into fragments.

Taketan's mouth hung wide open. The sharp ringing in his ears kept him from hearing the panicked howls around him. He stared in terror at the armored soldiers struggling in pools of blood ahead. These battle-hardened elites had crossed a thousand li to get here, yet they were so frail before cheap lead pellets. Everything before his eyes had completely shattered the conviction he had built since entering the pass. The other armored soldiers around him were equally affected by this devastating blow; the formation had ground to a halt.

Before the ringing in Taketan's ears had even faded, the long, drawn-out swan call of a horn sounded from the opposite side. Taketan knew that sound all too well — it was the prelude to a volley of arquebus fire. He instinctively crouched lower.

Instantly, an even more ferocious blaze than before erupted atop the breastwork opposite. The rear rank of arquebusiers thrust their matchlocks into the gaps between the front rank. Three hundred matchlocks from both the front and rear arquebusier ranks aimed and fired a concentrated volley at the Jianzhou bandits fifty paces away. Another hundred-plus men collapsed upon the shattered formation. Flecks of atomized blood sprayed onto Taketan's face, but he did not even think to wipe them away. His mind was completely blank. He stared blankly ahead. That low wall was now completely swallowed by dense white smoke.

The thunderous reports continued without pause. On both flanks, the Banjiu Foot Gun squares, operating in ten-man teams, rotated rapidly and fired in volleys. The Banjiu Foot Gun's heavy one-and-a-half-ounce shot was unstoppable. With every volley, several men were struck. Under this sustained assault, the Jianzhou bandits' battle line had been thrown into utter chaos. Their central army seemed not yet to have reacted; no orders of any kind had been issued.

The Wendeng Camp central army sounded two blasts of the deployment horn. The assault teams, arrayed in column formation, all deployed into four-rank horizontal lines. The firearms squads, having completed their firing, all withdrew to the rear ranks.

The great drum of the Wendeng Camp central army began to beat slowly. The first rank of the assault team began to advance. Together, they heaved and pushed over the breastwork, crossing beyond their own battle line. The three reserve squads behind them also began moving forward at the same time. By now, the Banjiu Foot Gun squares had completed their covering fire. All the firearms squads fell silent, busy reloading their ammunition. Once reloaded, they too would advance. On the battlefield, only the drumbeats and the screams of the Jianzhou bandits remained.

Over six hundred assault team soldiers emerged from the white smoke, appearing before the chaotic Jianzhou bandit battle line. Their black armor, set against the white backdrop, was starkly conspicuous. The Jianzhou bandits' central army also began beating its great drum. Officers at every level barked orders, telling the armored soldiers to prepare for battle. They had never imagined that Ming troops would dare to come out and engage in hand-to-hand combat. This strange army had completely overturned their preconceptions. None of their soldiers were mentally prepared for this. For the first time since the Battle of the Hunhe River, they felt fear in the face of a Ming army.

The Wendeng Camp central army drumbeats grew faster and faster. The assault team's formation began to accelerate. Just as in training, they subconsciously maintained their orderly pace, their footsteps producing a rumbling thunder.

They quickly closed to thirty paces. Scattered arrows flew over from the Jianzhou bandits' side. Because of the chaos, most of them no longer had the chance to shoot. They had to prepare for the imminent melee — the last advantage they still believed in.

A horn sounded. Six hundred assault team soldiers roared in unison: "Hu!"

After three shouts, the drumbeats tightened. The entire Wendeng Camp line broke into a jog. The bouncing armor plates reflected the late morning sun, flashing with countless dazzling points of light. The Wendeng Camp central army drum soon reached its highest frequency. The assault team, maintaining a straight and unbroken battle line, advanced like a moving wall.

The Later Jin soldiers, spurred by their officers' howls, summoned their remaining courage and roared back. The great blades and long spears of the rear ranks were leveled, and they moved to meet the Ming army. Their command had already fallen into disarray; some were advancing, while others remained in place. The formation had become jagged, like the teeth of a saw.

Two black torrents surged toward each other. Chen Ying locked his eyes on an armored soldier twenty paces directly ahead. Both men wielded long spears. When that armored soldier came within ten paces, he suddenly accelerated and charged. Chen Ying did not flinch. Letting out a bestial howl, he thrust his long spear violently forward. He and another squadmate simultaneously struck the Later Jin spearman in the chest, where his iron armor was. The spearheads produced a hideous screech of grinding steel. The shafts bowed slightly upward in the middle. The steel-tipped spearheads, driven by the momentum of the charge, smoothly pierced the iron armor and plunged into the soldier's chest. The Later Jin soldier's own twelve-chi wooden-shafted long spear stopped short in front of Chen Ying.

That fierce-looking armored soldier was driven two steps backward by the force of the two men. He dropped his long spear, his hands feebly grasping the two spear shafts. He vomited great mouthfuls of blood, his face twisted beyond recognition. Chen Ying and the other man withdrew their spears together, and the armored soldier crumpled to the ground.

A miserable cry came from beside Chen Ying. A tangba-wielder in their squad had been stabbed in the abdomen by a long spear. Chen Ying stepped forward and thrust his spear out with lightning speed, killing that long-spear armored soldier as well. Just as he retracted his spear, two more sword-and-shield men charged out from behind the fallen spearman. Both held round shields to protect their bodies and rushed forward in a low crouch.

Chen Ying nimbly raised his right hand and lowered his left, bracing the spearhead against one of the shields. This was the standard long-spear defensive maneuver against sword and shield. That armored soldier's attempt to close the distance was thwarted. His shield was knocked askew by the resistance of the spear shaft. Unable to check his momentum, he actually spun and tumbled to the ground. Before he could even get up, a long spear from the side had already pierced clean through his neck. After the spearhead was withdrawn, he clutched his throat and writhed silently on the ground.

The other sword-and-shield soldier was not blocked. He crouched low, his face twisted into a savage grimace. Using the upper edge of his left-hand shield, he lifted the spear shaft, preparing to slide forward along it into the spear's dead zone. He was a veteran of rich experience. Once he entered that range, Ming soldiers invariably turned and fled, and then he would kill them one by one from behind.

He had just taken a single step when a long spear from the rear rank thrust out through the gaps in the front rank, stabbing fiercely into his exposed calf below the round shield. The armored soldier stumbled and came to a halt. With a furious roar, he slashed downward with his saber, severing the spear shaft with a single blow. As he swung, he exposed an opening on his right side. A tangba came sweeping in. The armored soldier nimbly rolled to the side. When he rose again, he still maintained his shield-forward stance. Ferocious by nature, he ignored his wound and prepared to press the attack. A thick, heavy blade-staff, whistling through the air, smashed violently onto his shield. The great iron-headed staff, driven by the inertia of the swing, unleashed a brutal force. With a crack, the wooden boards of the round shield were smashed to splinters. Half of that armored soldier's body went numb from the shock. He sat half-sprawled on the ground, unable to move, and watched helplessly as a long spear from the rear rank came straight at his face.

Before the Wendeng Camp assault team, a dense thicket of weapons was arrayed. Tangba and great staves coordinated with the thrusting long spears of the front and rear ranks. The Jianzhou bandits' forward armored soldiers were invariably attacked by multiple weapons at once. Those lucky enough to get close were beaten back by the great staves and sword-and-shield men. The Later Jin's broken armored soldier line was utterly incapable of handling the combined long-and-short-range attacks from the front and rear ranks. After suffering their first casualties, they began to fall back step by step. In many places, small gaps were torn open, exposing the lightly armored archers behind them, their faces filled with terror. Facing the heavily armored, long-weapon-wielding assault team, their single-handed sabers were utterly useless.

Chen Ying was like a frenzied wild beast, savagely attacking every enemy within the reach of his long spear. Finally, the first Later Jin soldier to turn and flee appeared before him. Zhong Laosi shouted loudly, waving his banner-spear to quicken the attack. The remaining armored soldiers also began to retreat. The gaps grew larger and larger.

Just at that moment, a unit of Later Jin soldiers clad in silver-white armor appeared before Chen Ying. From both flanks, the rumbling of hooves also began to rise.

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