Chapter 105: Specializing in Curing All Kinds of Defiance

Through his telescope, Zhu Cilang observed their armor and judged this group to be cannon fodder, so he ordered the bombardment to cease and the drums to sound the advance, with the musketeers providing cover as the entire camp pushed forward fifty paces.

He had originally planned that after the red barbarian cannons finished blasting, once the Tartars drew close he would use the folangji cannons to fire grapeshot—the same tactic as the Shunyi battle to wipe them out in one go. He never expected the Tartars to be so clever. Since that was the case, he would just push the cannons forward and bombard them, forcing them to attack or retreat.

Under the strikes of the Yongwei Camp's musketeers, the Tartar cannon fodder sprouted blooms of blood one after another, staggering and being knocked from their horses, their offensive posing no threat whatsoever to the Yongwei Camp.

Seeing the Ming artillery positions advancing forward, the Qing army's Meiren Janggin's face darkened as he roared orders for a full-speed assault—charge across to the opposite bank and slaughter all the Ming barbarians!

The Qing cavalry once again spurred their horses into a mad gallop, recklessly charging toward the bridge surface. The Yongwei Camp's battle formation was now only a hundred and fifty paces from the bridge—every type of cannon could reach the bridge's position, and the red barbarian cannons could even adjust their elevation to blanket the entire Qing formation.

The Qing army charged with desperate abandon while the Yongwei Camp bombarded with desperate fury—red barbarian cannons blasted their main formation, folangji and tiger-crouch cannons pounded the bridge surface, and musketeers arrayed on both flanks in a swallow-wing formation struck at the Tartar cavalry crossing the bridge.

For a moment the scene was intensely heated, thick gunsmoke drifting everywhere, nearly obscuring the Yongwei Camp's field of vision.

"Fire!"

All the cannons and muskets aimed at the Qing soldiers on the bridge—there was hardly any need to aim, just keep loading and firing, and Tartar soldiers on the other side would fall.

Qing soldiers charging up one after another screamed as they were knocked from their horses, writhing in agony on the ground and shrieking. Many Tartar soldiers clutched wounds mangled by lead shot as they tumbled into the river waters beneath the bridge.

Around Mapo Bridge, Qing corpses piled higher and higher—on the bridge surface itself they stacked a full man's height, and the Qing cavalry behind could no longer get across at all. The river below the bridge was also filled with floating Tartar corpses, the water turned completely red.

Smelling the pungent stench of blood wafting from the bridge, the soldiers of the Shenji Camp craning their necks to watch from the rear formation felt their hearts tremble—so this is war? How cruel!

The Qing cavalry formation on the north bank was thrown into chaos by the red barbarian cannon bombardment. The cavalry charging in the front ranks were stunned senseless—some wheeled their horses around and fled backward, while others, unafraid of death, still charged forward, wanting to test just how hard their fate was.

Zhu Cilang's personality was more old-school than the oldest-school doctor—specializing in curing all kinds of defiance!

This bunch of Tartars was far too arrogant, thinking their cavalry was so invincible, daring to charge in such a cramped space!

The self-igniting Lumi muskets used by the Yongwei Camp were loaded with paper-cartridge fixed powder charges, allowing for very fast reloading—volley after volley of continuous fire. This battle already had no suspense whatsoever; the Qing army simply could not break through this bridge of death.

This battle was like a game of Chinese chess—a modified version of the Chu-Han divide—with cannons on one side and horses on the other. As long as the horses moved first, the cannons could reap them. The horses still needed to charge across the river and advance a few squares, and even their defense was crippled.

What Zhu Cilang was currently considering was how to eliminate this group of Tartars' effective strength to the greatest degree. In all this time, they had killed fewer than a thousand—the Tartars still had so many men remaining. Even with the Shenshu Camp at five thousand against two thousand, there wasn't much chance of victory.

Although Zhu Cilang was dissatisfied, the Tartar Meiren Janggin's heart ached terribly—in the time it took to fart, so many of his brave warriors had died. How long would it take to replenish and recover after returning?!

After the bridge surface was blocked by a thick layer of corpses, the Qing soldiers behind found it extremely difficult to spur their horses across. Zhu Cilang ordered the red barbarian cannons to keep firing, and all the folangji cannons to be pushed to the riverbank to fire grapeshot, inflicting maximum casualties on the Tartars!

The artillery battalion pushed several dozen folangji cannons to the riverbank, rapidly loading steel balls and lead balls of various sizes into the barrels, finally pressing a large solid shot on top.

"Open fire!"

At this moment, wave after wave of cannon fire sounded from the south bank of the river. The Tartar cavalry closest to the bank erupted in mists of blood one after another, instantly swept clean. The cavalry behind, seeing this, scattered like panicked rats, their horses thrown into a chaotic mess like a pot of porridge.

Huang Degong laughed out loud and said: "Exhilarating! Fucking exhilarating!"

Wang Wannian's heart was shaken to its core—even though he had commanded the Shenji Camp for many years, he had never seen actual combat. He never imagined artillery could be so effective!

Not only did the Yongwei Camp's muskets not explode their barrels, their armor-piercing capability was extremely strong—even stronger than the Lumi muskets in his own Shenji Camp—and they didn't even need to ignite a match to fire directly? Everything before his eyes made Wang Wannian extremely curious.

Zhu Cilang saw that he had been watching the Yongwei Camp's artillery battalion's tactics from start to finish, wanting to learn something, so he spoke up: "The Tartars' advantage lies in their cavalry and mobility; our Great Ming's advantage lies in firearms. Playing to our strengths while avoiding our weaknesses is how we strike the enemy more effectively. But these firearm tactics aren't so easy to employ—the quality of the artillerymen is very important. No matter how good the firearms, in the hands of cowardly soldiers, they're no different from scrap metal."

Wang Wannian nodded slightly, thoughtfully digesting these words. Zhu Cilang said no more, gripping his telescope and continuing to observe the battlefield situation.

Under the cannons' attack, the power of those steel balls and lead balls was even greater than what muskets could deliver. No matter how many layers of armor the Tartars wore, they could not resist this penetrating power. After another round of firing, in the blink of an eye several hundred more fell.

Great terror arose in the Qing soldiers' hearts—anyone facing this kind of fighting would collapse. The remaining men were already prepared to retreat at any moment, waiting only for the Meiren Janggin's order.

Seeing that his brave warriors had lost all fighting spirit, and with the river blocking their path, this Meiren Janggin had no choice but to finally order a retreat. This battle was the most humiliating one he had fought since he first took the field!

The Meiren Janggin reined in his horse, turning back to glare hatefully at the opposite bank. He wished he could fly across, charge into the enemy's central command, and tell the Ming army's commander that the brave warriors of their Great Qing were not what they had seen today—Qing soldiers were very strong, this time was just a mistake!

After the Qing army ran out of the folangji cannons' range, they began to retreat at a leisurely pace, even sending out cavalry to collect the bodies of their fallen Tartar dead. Zhu Cilang was deeply displeased—this battle had completely failed to achieve his strategic intent.

There were still roughly fifteen hundred cavalry on the other side. Could the Shenshu Camp—this bunch of pampered soldiers—chase them down and annihilate them now? Would they get counter-slaughtered in one wave? Zhu Cilang hesitated to order the Shenshu Camp, hidden in ambush on both flanks, to strike.

"Assistant Regional Commander Wang! Did you bring the Shenji Camp's Majestic Divine General cannons?" Zhu Cilang suddenly asked.

Wang Wannian immediately replied: "Reporting to Your Highness! We brought them!"

"Good! I'll give you a chance—use the Shenji Camp's Majestic Divine General cannons to see off our friends up ahead!"

Wang Wannian was stunned for a moment, then immediately ecstatic. He hastily ordered the Shenji Camp to push the twenty Majestic Divine General cannons to the front, beginning to measure distance, adjust angles, and take aim.

Wang Wannian was extremely excited. The Shenji Camp had painstakingly transported these Majestic Divine General cannons weighing four to five thousand jin each, originally thinking they would have no chance to prove their worth—who knew another opportunity would arise!

"Test fire!" Wang Wannian personally waved the command flag to direct, yearning to render distinguished service.

A gunner from the Shenji Camp lit the fuse of a cannon that fired ten-jin shot. Everyone's expressions were tense and excited at once, staring fixedly at the fuse spitting sparks with a hissing sound.