Chapter 125: Kill! Kill! Kill!

When the Qing cavalry charged to within one hundred fifty paces of the Ming battle formation, the artillery ceased firing.

The musketeers of the Yongwei Camp and the New Camp crossed the artillery positions in orderly ranks, formed up in front of the artillery line, and began volley firing in sequence.

"Open fire!"

The two camps together had over eight thousand musketeers, drawn up in three musket formations that stretched out a long battle line, pouring a hail of lead shot freely at the Qing cavalry.

Most of the New Camp musketeers used the Lumi muskets discarded by the Yongwei Camp, and even some bird-gun muskets that required match ignition and fired slowly; they employed the Divine Machinery Camp's three-stage volley tactic.

According to historical records, the three-stage volley was a tactical firing method improved by Mu Ying, adopted son of Zhu Yuanzhang in the early Ming, when he was pacifying Yunnan and found that loading muskets with powder was too slow when using firearms against rebel war elephants.

Three men formed one team: the foremost musketeer fired first, then withdrew to the rear of the formation to focus on reloading, while the second soldier stepped forward to fire—the three took turns loading and firing, tripling the efficiency of the slow-firing matchlock muskets!

At this time the New Camp's musketeers were split into multiple ranks, employing not only three-stage volleys but as many as six-stage volleys, delivering an unbroken stream of fire against the Qing cavalry.

After the pounding of several hundred cannons from the Divine Machinery Camp, plus the dense firepower of the musketeers, the Qing cavalry had become a spent arrow—even if they barely managed to reach the Ming formation, they could not cause much impact upon the Ming ranks.

When the few remaining Qing cavalry charged to within only twenty paces of the Ming formation, Sun Yingyuan immediately ordered: "Pikemen, advance in formation!"

The New Camp's three thousand pikemen, wielding four-meter-long pikes, marched in even steps past the musket formation and angled their pikes toward the Qing cavalry thundering in.

The remnant Qing cavalry that had survived the hail of shot and steel had long since lost their edge, and unable to form the advantage of a massed charge, they could not break through the Yongwei Camp's pike formation—one after another they were stabbed off their horses and died violent deaths.

Despite countless casualties, the Qing infantry in the rear ranks still stubbornly—or perhaps foolishly—pressed toward the Ming formation, leaving a trail of corpses behind them until they entered the dead zone beyond cannon range, whereupon the Divine Machinery Camp's artillery temporarily ceased firing.

"Pikemen, withdraw!"

At the command, the pikemen pulled back behind the musket ranks, and the musketeers returned to the very front of the formation.

"Form ranks and advance! Kill!"

"Kill! Kill! Kill!"

Several thousand musketeers formed several rectangular formations and stepped forward in unison, roaring aloud; the earth-shaking cries of slaughter accompanied their orderly footfalls, along with the clatter of armor colliding, presenting a sight of supreme might and ferocity that shook the soul.

As they gradually closed on the Qing infantry, the musket formations' gunfire rang out again in unbroken succession, each formation firing in turn, blasting wildly at the Qing troops from every angle.

The Yongwei Camp's position was shrouded in thick smoke, filled with the choking stench of sulfur; under the Yongwei Camp's fierce firepower, the Qing infantry formations fell in rows and swaths.

"Ho! Ho! Ho!"

Large numbers of Qing shield-bearers emerged to cover the front ranks, and likewise shouting, they advanced in formation; both sides had ten thousand voices crying out as one, wave upon wave of sound surging straight into the clouds!

"Open fire!"

"Open fire!"

"Open fire!"

After several rounds of volley fire from the Ming musket formations, the Qing shield-bearers at the front had long since been shot full of holes, and the rear ranks had fallen in great numbers as well—after all, the Qing did not have many thick iron shields, and most shields simply could not stop musket fire, especially as the distance grew ever shorter.

However, as the distance closed to within sixty paces, the Qing archers likewise formed ranks and began round after round of high-arcing shots.

Great sheets of arrows rained down into the Ming musket formations; though the Ming musketeers wore eight-lobed iron helmets and iron armor, not a few were struck by arrows and fell.

Yet the Ming did not send shield-bearers forward to protect them; they merely ordered a halt to the advance and fired volleys in place, attacking the Qing with the broadest possible network of firepower.

The two sides exchanged fire madly at a distance of several dozen paces—the Qing with bows, the Ming with muskets; the Qing's rate of fire was somewhat faster, but the Ming muskets were far more lethal.

Facing the Qing's arrow storms, men in the Ming musket formations kept falling, yet they never wavered—especially the Yongwei Camp at the front, whose men reloaded and fired ceaselessly with calm expressions.

The New Camp musketeers in the rear, fighting their first field battle in formation, did not perform ideally, but fortunately the Yongwei Camp held the line ahead of them, and no panic or collapse occurred.

The Qing side performed entirely differently. At first they remained fairly composed, but when the front ranks of the Eight Banners fell row after row, those behind were seized with terror—the Ming muskets were too devastating; a single hit meant certain death.

Chaos erupted in the Eight Banners' formation: the Qing soldiers in front were unwilling to stand and be shot dead, yet could not retreat, so they could only steel themselves and charge forward, feeding themselves into the meat grinder.

When the two sides were still about twenty paces apart, Sun Yingyuan ordered all cavalry to sally from both flanks, envelop the Qing's two wings, and disrupt the Qing's rear formations.

At the same time, the pikemen and sword-shield infantry all moved out as well, crossing past the musket formation to meet the approaching Qing troops.

"Fix bayonets!"

As the pikemen and sword-shield infantry had already become locked in combat with the Qing infantry, Sun Yingyuan immediately gave the order; a series of "click, click" sounds rang out from the Yongwei Camp's front ranks as the soldiers fitted their triangular bayonets, preparing for close combat.

"Kill!"

Sun Yingyuan led with a furious roar, gripping his crescent-blade guandao and charging forward at the head of his men.

"Kill! Kill! Kill!"

The entire army joined in with a collective roar, then all charged forward—this was the first time the Yongwei Camp's musketeers had ever used bayonets in hand-to-hand combat with the enemy on the battlefield.

The Yongwei Camp musketeers held muskets about one point six meters long fitted with triangular bayonets, standing with one leg forward and one back, one hand gripping the forward handguard and the other the curved section before the stock, the stock angled slightly downward beside their supporting leg, the weapon half-obliquely pointed at the foe, the bayonet tip roughly level with the brow.

In this stance, the musket ran from high front to low rear, just covering the vital points of neck, chest, and abdomen, while a flick of the bayonet could launch a thrust.

One Yongwei Camp musketeer, leveling his cold triangular bayonet, drove a fierce thrust into the Tartar before him—the Qing soldiers sent to die in front barely wore any armor, normally just a single layer, so the triangular bayonet slid easily into the Tartar's body.

A miserable shriek rang out, and a jet of blood sprayed forth along the grooves of the triangular bayonet, splashing this Yongwei Camp soldier with warm gore; the soldier kicked the Tartar before him over and thrust at another Tartar soldier.

The agony of being stabbed by a triangular bayonet could only be truly understood by the Tartars who experienced it firsthand; on the battlefield, one Tartar after another let out desolate screams when pierced by the triangular bayonets—sounds that made one's skin crawl.

The Qing losses were already extremely severe. If they could not suppress the Ming in close combat in the shortest time and send the entire Ming line into collapse and retreat, it would essentially mean defeat.

The Qing had always been arrogant, and this campaign south of the pass in particular had gone so smoothly that it made them even more swollen with pride. Sometimes having the halo of glory upon you is not a good thing—to defend that glory, dying of stubbornness and fighting head-on against an unknown powerful foe only leads to even greater losses!

Like a Gold-rank player who thinks his opponent is just a Bronze, and after taking a loss from the Bronze, flies into a rage and wants to unleash a burst of revenge to take the opponent out in one combo—only to discover the opponent is actually Diamond-rank.

The battle had already begun; backing down was impossible. Knowing they were being dominated, they could only grit their teeth and fight on, clinging to the desperate hope of snatching a win.

This was nothing worth encouraging—it was entirely a matter of slapping one's face swollen to look fat, trying to show off and getting dominated instead, especially in war, where it was gambling with the lives of the nation and its soldiers.

Abatai had wanted to take a gamble, but never imagined the Eight Banners would be so passive against the Ming army before him—even close combat in the field was being utterly suppressed by the Ming.

The Qing troops had barely rested day or night, had been caught off guard by the cannon ambush and forced to hastily form ranks, and their cavalry and front-line infantry had suffered heavy losses—their morale had plummeted, while the Ming's morale was soaring and their spirits were at their peak.

The moment the two armies made contact, the Qing were driven back step by step by the Ming's slaughter. Seeing this, Abatai, to avoid even greater losses, hastily ordered the gongs sounded to withdraw and fled in defeat toward Baodi.

Zhu Cilang immediately ordered the entire army to pursue, taking not a single prisoner, to inflict maximum casualties upon the Qing!

Only after the Qing fled in rout, leaving behind a great many corpses, did Sun Yingyuan let out a long breath. This great battle at Xincheng had been commanded almost entirely by him, and at last he could submit a flawless record of achievement.

Thanks to fellow readers: Mingyangzhi2016's tip of 1000 Qidian coins; fellow reader Xiukucun's tip of 500 Qidian coins.