Chapter 106: Joint Operations

The fuse on the firing pan burned to its end, and the massive muzzle of the five-thousand-jin Divine Might General Cannon flashed once with fire, the barrel shuddering as a thunderous roar erupted—a huge iron ball screamed over the heads of the Qing cavalry and flew into the distance.

The Qing army had already withdrawn to two li beyond Mapo Bridge, out of range of ordinary red barbarian cannons, yet this Divine Might General Cannon had actually overshot, firing a full three li.

"Useless trash!" Wang Wannian kicked over the Divine Mechanism Camp artilleryman who had been measuring the range.

The Divine Mechanism Camp artillerymen adjusted the angle of the General Cannons once more, carefully and precisely aiming at the retreating Qing cavalry formation.

Wang Wannian's face darkened as he raised the command flag again and bellowed: "Fire!"

"Boom! Boom! Boom!"

Twenty General Cannons fired in unison, the sound like rolling thunder that crashed across the land. Zhu Cilang, standing atop a war chariot, was so startled he stumbled and nearly fell off.

"Holy shit, goddamn, that's fucking awesome!" Zhu Cilang could only use such words to express the shock in his heart. He steadied himself and raised his telescope to observe the results.

The Qing army, which had been withdrawing at a leisurely pace, heard the tremendous roar behind them and turned to look—only to see dozens of black iron balls flying through the distant sky straight toward them.

"Boom! Boom!"

Iron balls weighing over ten jin each slammed into the cavalry ranks, carving a path a hundred meters long from where they landed, shattering men and horses alike in their wake.

The Divine Mechanism Camp soldiers of Zhang Shize's force, ambushed on both sides, watched with even greater clarity. They saw with their own eyes dozens of iron balls like iron plowshares, plowing a hundred meters from south to north, leaving severed arms, severed legs, severed heads—everything imaginable—a sight too miserable to behold.

"Motherfucking hell! That's vicious!" In the Divine Pivot Camp, a soldier from the northwest couldn't help but exclaim.

After finishing a volley, the Divine Mechanism Camp artillerymen immediately swabbed out their barrels with wet wool-tipped wooden rods, then the loaders continued packing in the powder charges while sealing the firing pans, loading and tamping down the iron balls, and finally installing the ignition fuse at the firing pan, preparing to fire again.

This series of operations pleased Wang Wannian considerably. Although the Divine Mechanism Camp rarely trained, they still knew their way around cannon operation and hadn't fallen too far behind.

The General Cannons were fixed on four-wheeled carriages, and the recoil after each shot didn't push them back far enough to require re-aiming, saving considerable time.

Seeing that the cannons were nearly loaded, Wang Wannian raised the command flag again and roared furiously: "Blast the bastards to hell!"

The earth-shaking thunder of cannon fire sounded once more, accompanied by thick gunsmoke at the muzzles, as dozens of iron balls rained down upon the already fleeing Qing cavalry.

Boom! With the tremendous crash of iron balls striking the ground, great clouds of blood mist erupted instantly among the Qing ranks—Qing cavalrymen, man and horse alike, were smashed into pulp on the spot, dirt mixed with shattered limbs flying everywhere.

Boom! Boom! Iron balls weighing over ten jin bounced wildly across the dry earth, trailing gore in their path as Tartar soldiers writhed in agony on the ground, letting out heart-rending screams.

"Full retreat! Fast!" Seeing his Great Qing warriors dying so miserably, the leading Meiren Zhangjing felt as if his heart were being cut with a knife, roaring desperately.

The Tartar cavalry began fleeing for their lives, whipping their war horses without mercy, shrieking in terror as they ran—abandoning even the corpses of their fallen warriors!

Seeing the Tartar cavalry thrown into chaos, each one fleeing for his life, Zhu Cilang knew the opportunity had come. He ordered the Divine Mechanism Camp to cease bombardment and sent a signal for the Divine Pivot Camp to begin the pursuit.

Zhang Shize, lying in ambush in the woods along the riverbank, saw the signal and immediately mounted his horse, raising the great lance in his hand: "Brothers! Follow me to slaughter the Tartars! Let us display the might of the Divine Pivot Camp!"

Zhang Shize spurred his war horse to the very front, with twenty household retainers of the Duke of Ying's mansion—all skilled in archery and horsemanship—riding hard at his heels. Then the five thousand Divine Pivot Camp cavalry hidden on both sides mounted up as well and charged out from the woods.

Seeing so many Ming cavalry suddenly emerging from both flanks behind them, the Qing cavalry were filled with even greater terror. Each man only desperately spurred his mount, whipping his war horse until blood ran freely.

Compared to their banners-bright, awe-inspiring arrival, they now fled like stray dogs, their banners tilted and askew, all their majesty utterly lost.

Through his telescope, Zhu Cilang watched the Tartar soldiers fleeing in disgrace from afar, and so ordered the cleanup of the mountain of Tartar corpses piled on Mapo Bridge—whether dead or not, all were to be beheaded.

Zhu Cilang assigned this task to the Divine Mechanism Camp. The soldiers initially refused—few dared to step forward and do the deed. Wang Wannian, at his wit's end, shouted that cutting off one Tartar head would earn a promotion of one rank, and two heads would earn fifty taels of silver.

Hearing this, the Divine Mechanism Camp artillerymen rushed onto the bridge, drawing their sabers and scrambling over one another to cut off Tartar heads. With too many monks and too little meat, some soldiers even jumped into the river to drag in Tartar corpses floating on the water, hauling them to shore before chopping off their heads with a single stroke.

Before long, the bridge was swept clean of Tartar corpses, and the Divine Mechanism Camp soldiers began heading to the battlefield on the opposite bank to collect heads.

At first, many soldiers were terrified and dared not act. But watching their comrades collecting head after head, they were eventually tempted—closing their eyes, they grabbed their sabers and started hacking.

Zhu Cilang shook his head and muttered to himself: "In the face of profit, what is fear? Nothing but a fart!"

Zhang Shize, leading twenty elite household retainers, was the first to catch up with the retreating Tartar soldiers. He leveled his great lance at a Tartar soldier desperately whipping his horse, and with the momentum of his mount, drove the lance through the man's left back, then with a flick of his strength sent the Tartar's corpse flying.

Zhang Shize, as the future ninth Duke of Ying, had grown up in a martial hereditary family. He had practiced martial arts since childhood, possessed tremendous strength, and was skilled in both archery and horsemanship.

Zhang Shize, astride his magnificent war horse, charged all the way at the front, impaling or knocking over several Tartar cavalrymen along the way. Before long, he led the Divine Pivot Camp cavalry charging straight into the midst of the fleeing Tartar rabble.

The five thousand Divine Pivot Camp cavalry chased and slaughtered the Tartars with great relish. Among the Tartar soldiers, some skilled in archery shot arrows back over their shoulders while fleeing, killing quite a few Divine Pivot Camp cavalrymen as well.

The Divine Pivot Camp pursued for ten li, cutting down nearly a thousand Tartars before the order came to halt the chase—the Tartar soldiers in the front ranks had simply run too fast to catch.

Zhang Shize was also quite satisfied with this battle. He ordered the Divine Pivot Camp to return along the route to clean up the battlefield, beheading Tartars and gathering up some of their horses, and dispatched two messengers to report the battle situation to Zhu Cilang.

A Vice General of the Divine Pivot Camp chopped off a Tartar head, held it up in his hand, and shouted: "The Tartars aren't so tough after all—don't they just carry a head on two shoulders like everyone else?"

The surrounding soldiers burst into laughter at his words. This time the Divine Pivot Camp had truly gained face—they had killed a good number of Tartar soldiers, and there was no way this military merit would slip away.