Chapter 363: Hidden Weapon

Yatouzi grabbed the Third Boss. "Beat the drums, now!"

As the drums rolled, over a thousand refugee men howled in unison: "Kill the government troops!"

The refugees surged forward howling. They took multiple cannon volleys along the way, their chaotic, packed formation suffering hideous losses, but a frenzied, manic fervor drove these men. They needed to fight to become infantry, and later cavalry, to earn larger food rations and keep themselves and their families alive.

The Ming army's front ranks stood packed with musketeers, standing silent and still amid the battle cries. Only when the refugees charged within fifty paces did they unleash a single devastating volley. Over two hundred flintlocks fired at better than eighty percent, the dense sheet of flame and white smoke shattering the refugees' manic fervor in an instant.

Even the elite of the Jianzhou Bandits could not withstand such a fierce volley, which was why they always sent skirmishers to harass first. This Yatouzi in front of them could not pull off that maneuver, and more importantly, he had no desire to fight at all.

A chorus of shrieks rose from the refugee mass. Their formation was gone, the chaotic crowd scattering like headless flies. Ming close-combat troops advanced rapidly to the front, while flanking detachments and cavalry on both wings began their envelopment.

"Run!" Yatouzi bellowed. The horse bandits wheeled with practiced ease and fled, heading west into the hills, toward Lin County.

The moment this side bolted, the clamoring camp followers behind them exploded in panic. The wails of women, children, the old and the weak shook the heavens. Some ran searching for their able-bodied men, others fled in every direction. Pots, pans, bedding, and household goods were strewn across the ground, and many were trampled, shrieking and weeping on the earth.

Ming infantry like iron hammers smashed the front ranks of the roving bandits into scattered fragments. Right-wing cavalry charged in formation into the bandit mass, cutting them down and trampling countless to death. The roving riders were even more ferocious, whooping as they hunted down the fleeing bandits. This bandit gang, reputedly one of the Thirty-Six Camps, collapsed without lasting a single exchange, routed in the blink of an eye.

Yatouzi spurred his horse at full gallop, leading a spare horse by hand. The horse bandits around him all fled for their lives. They had prepared for this from the start, their most vital valuables already loaded on their mounts.

Ming cavalry on the left wing skirted the edge of the collapsing bandits and raced toward Yatouzi. They were few in number but in an extremely tight formation, screened by a dozen or so scattered picket riders. The rest of the Ming troops were blocked by the chaotic refugees behind them, which served as a screen.

"Throw! Throw the women! Throw the silk!" Seeing the Ming troops closing in, Yatouzi roared at the bandits behind him.

The bandits in the rear began hurling the women and bolts of silk and satin from their horses to the ground. This was what they had always done. Usually, Ming troops would stop to loot, and the pursuit would slacken. Tossing these things first also lightened the horses' loads, making escape easier. Their mounted force numbered over three hundred, far more than the Ming cavalry. But the Ming also had swarms of tough infantry. Getting entangled with the cavalry meant certain death, and Yatouzi naturally had no intention of fighting these Ming troops head-on.

After galloping a stretch, Yatouzi turned his head. Those Ming troops paid no attention to the goods on the ground and were still in hot pursuit. "Your mother's got a big appetite. Throw silver." Yatouzi led by example, grabbing silver ingots from the saddlebags on both sides and flinging them wildly. This wild flinging had its own skill — the silver had to be scattered wide, so picking it up was troublesome and the scramble more intense. Under no circumstances could it be thrown in whole bags, or one man would grab it all, and those who got nothing would keep chasing.

Gleaming white silver flew everywhere, strewn all along their escape route. Yatouzi glanced back smugly, and his eyes went wide. Those Ming troops ignored the silver covering the ground and kept coming, guided by a single banner lance.

Yatouzi cursed them furiously. "What the hell do you motherfuckers want, trying to break the rules?! Your old man isn't scared of you..."

Even as he talked tough, he kept fleeing. The rout was now a fact, and every man wanted only to save his own skin. Even the Heavenly King himself couldn't stop it — this was a lesson he had distilled from years of revolutionary struggle. He was truly beginning to regret it now. Had he known, he would have been better off bleeding their cavalry a little.

Some bandits riding mules could no longer flee in time and, in their panic, abandoned their mules to scatter to either side. Some riding mixed-breed horses were overtaken and killed by the Ming troops. The most elite horse bandits around Yatouzi were seasoned and always careful to conserve their mounts' strength, so now they found it far easier to outrun the newer bandits.

The Ming cavalry in the rear no longer maintained their tight formation. With horses of differing stamina, the all-out pursuit had stretched them into a long line. Finally, a bamboo whistle sounded, and they slowed to reform ranks. Only the picket riders continued the chase.

Yatouzi let out a breath of relief. He looked back toward the battlefield and saw vast swaths of refugees kneeling on the ground, begging loudly for mercy.

"Your mother, fiercer than King Lu of Hell. So many people — let's see if you dare kill them, your old man says." Yatouzi lashed his horse's rump savagely and followed the road through the mountain pass toward Lin County.

"What the hell do the dog-fuckers want, still following us?" Longbei Gully in Ci County, surrounded by hills. Yatouzi had fled over fifty li in one breath, switching horses along the way. He had lost over fifty of his elite troops, which pained him deeply. The Ming troops behind had also been worn out, with only seven or eight picket riders left. But these few Ming soldiers were stubbornly persistent. He had sent men to drive them off several times, but they always returned after a short while.

The Third came over from the front. "Big Boss, there's a river crossing up ahead. Do we take it?"

"We take it. Tang Xiaoshan, take your men and drive off those dog soldiers behind us. I don't like being followed."

Tang Xiaoshan's face creased with worry. "Big Boss, what if they won't go far?"

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"Then you guard the crossing right here." Yatouzi pointed north. "West here is mountains, east is the river. The ground in between is barely the size of a palm. They'll have no room to circle around. Drive them far off."

Yatouzi finished speaking and mounted up impatiently, heading straight for the crossing. Tang Xiaoshan had no choice but to lead his men charging back. The Ming troops indeed had to fall back. Tang Xiaoshan pursued them for a while, then turned to see Yatouzi had already vanished. He hurriedly headed south to catch up. Beyond the crossing lay another stretch of low hills. Following the hoofprints on the ground, he veered west.

The few Ming picket riders pursued again, following on Tang Xiaoshan's tail. After crossing the river, they split into two groups, one heading south, the other west. The three riders heading west had just rounded the first low hill when a sudden horn blast sounded from the slopes on both sides. Bowstrings thrummed, and dozens of arrows came whistling in dense clusters, riddling the two men in front like hedgehogs.

The two riders collapsed on the spot and lay still. The horses, more tenacious in life, thrashed on the ground. The last Ming soldier was hit by only two arrows, and his horse was not badly wounded. He frantically wheeled his mount and fled back the way he had come.

Yatouzi and his men swaggered down from the roadside on the right. A dozen or so roving bandits spurred their horses to chase the remaining Ming soldiers, while another twenty-odd men gathered by the road and began stripping the two dead soldiers' belongings.

Yatouzi was immensely pleased with himself. He had suffered a catastrophic defeat today, but now he had finally vented his spleen. An ambush like this was as routine to him as eating a meal. Those few Ming soldiers were well-trained but had grown careless in victory. Yatouzi had focused solely on fleeing at first and hadn't used the ambush tactic until he spotted this suitable spot. Once Tang Xiaoshan led his men to drive the Ming troops back a stretch, Yatouzi slipped out of their surveillance and had time to set the trap, catching these Ming soldiers completely off guard. Each of the two Ming soldiers had been shot by seven or eight arrows at close range and had long since breathed their last. By now they had been stripped bare.

"I want this." Tang Xiaoshan snatched up a backpack and dumped its contents out with a clatter. Inside were some silver and personal items. The rest was a pile of caltrops, ghost arrows, lassoes, and other such nasty implements, of little use to Tang Xiaoshan. He kept only the pack itself. It was sturdily made. Turning it over, he found small inner pouches fastened with toggles that could hold many kinds of items. He was instantly enamored. A field pack like this was especially useful for a roving bandit like him.

The Third stared greedily at the Qi-family saber he had gotten his hands on. The other mounted bandits fought over the mail armor, helmets, bows and arrows, coconut-shell canteens, shoes, and clothing. Even the socks were of a rare quality.

Yatouzi picked up a strange-looking object from the ground. "What's this?" He turned it over and over, examining it.

The Third came over for a look and said, "Big Brother, looks like a fire lance. Just very short."

Yatouzi barked, "Find a length of matchcord. Your old man wants to try it."

The Third crouched down and rummaged through the pile of goods. He searched for a good while but found none. He also dared not linger. Ming cavalry were still behind them; if they came seeking revenge, it would be trouble.

"Big Brother, let's go first. Those dog officers will be here soon. No point letting them latch on again, is there."

"Mm." Yatouzi shouted at the Second, "Take your men and run south. Lay some false hoofprints, then double back."

Yatouzi was still studying the firearm. He fiddled with the cock and muttered, "This must be where the matchcord goes. Why didn't that dog soldier have a single length on him?"

The Third was puzzled too. They clearly had a fire lance, so why carry no matchcord? Yatouzi pulled hard on the trigger, but the cock didn't budge. On a standard Ming army matchlock, the mechanism was linked — one pull on the trigger, and the matchcord clamp would move.

"Maybe this clamp is faulty. No wonder that dog soldier didn't carry matchcord." Cursing, Yatouzi put his eye to the muzzle and peered inside. After a moment he pulled away and fiddled randomly with the cock, and with a click, it actually caught halfway.

"Huh!" Both exclaimed in surprise. It was the first time they had ever seen a cock catch at half-cock. Yatouzi quickly pulled it again, and it caught once more, but pulling further produced no result.

Yatouzi sighed. "This gun's so broken. Wonder which dog officer cobbled it together."

Just then, the Second, Tang Xiaoshan, came running back. The Third quickly said to Yatouzi, "Big Brother, the false prints are laid. Let's go."

Yatouzi waved the gun in his hand, the muzzle bobbing wildly in front of the Third's face. He was about to toss the broken gun away, but gave the trigger another idle squeeze. It wouldn't budge. In a surge of fury, he put his strength into it.

A thunderous BANG. A cloud of white smoke erupted before them. The bandits scattered in chaos. Dizzy and disoriented, Yatouzi had no idea what had happened. He dropped the short gun and scrambled away, stumbling and crawling.

A long while later, seeing nothing amiss, the bandits regrouped. Yatouzi came over and looked. A large hole gaped in the Third's forehead. He was dead.

"Third! Oh, what a wretched death! Those heaven-cursed soldiers, who knows what hidden weapon they made. Big Brother will avenge you one day!" Yatouzi kicked the short gun far away and beat his chest and stamped his feet before the Third's body.

"Big Brother will slaughter them all one day... Right." Yatouzi suddenly stopped wailing. "What's the background of this government force?"

The Second quickly snatched up a waist tablet from the ground and also examined the saber the Third had dropped, which bore the mark of the Dengzhou Workshop. He said quietly to Yatouzi, "Dengzhou Garrison Militia Battalion, First Company Command, Reconnaissance..."

"Enough. Dengzhou Garrison it is. I'll slaughter every last one of them." Yatouzi finished his howl and waved at his men. "Bring the Third. We're going to Lin County to find the other brothers. Together we'll take on this Dengzhou Garrison. Daring to kill with hidden weapons — there's no law left!" (To be continued. If you enjoy this work, welcome to Qidian to vote and send monthly tickets.)

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