Chapter 200: Cannon Fodder King Lin Yangcheng

Under the leadership of World-Striving King Lin Yangcheng, the roving bandits launched their attack, fielding a full twenty thousand troops, though most were mere laborers and infantry—cannon fodder at the very bottom.

At two hundred fifty paces from the Tianwu Army's artillery positions and one hundred forty paces from the first trench line, the cannon fodder crept forward with crude shields, preparing to fill in the trenches ahead.

Huang Degong and the other Tianwu Army commanders found it amusing—the bandit leaders had no idea that the two-thousand-jin red barbarian cannon had an effective lethal range of over two li, the thousand-jin red barbarian cannon could reach more than one li, and even the large breech-loading cannons could hit at two to three hundred paces. These fools standing at around three hundred paces—weren't they just begging to be shelled?

Yet the Royal Heavy Artillery Regiment was in no hurry to act. Since the enemy didn't know about this, they pretended not to know either, quietly watching the enemy army creep closer.

"Master Lin, it looks like they've got cannons over there—and a lot of them!" a bandit commander exclaimed in alarm.

Lin Yangcheng, mounted on his horse, looked up and frowned. "Where? I don't see anything."

The bandit commander didn't know how to respond. If a man were merely dim-witted, one might still remind him, but if his eyesight was bad, there was nothing to be done—reminding him wouldn't help anyway!

Seeing that he had fallen silent, Lin Yangcheng assumed the man had been mistaken and didn't blame him. He shouted, "Pass the order—tell the starving men up front to move faster and stop wasting time! The cavalry and Old Camp men are to move up and supervise the battle; anyone who retreats gets killed!"

"Follow! Move up and supervise!" The commander spurred his horse, directing the cavalry and Old Camp soldiers while steadily edging backward himself.

Wan Junjie, commander of the Royal Heavy Artillery Regiment, watched the signal flags on the hillside command post intently. Seeing the flags wave, he knew the bandits had begun their full-scale assault.

Though Wan Junjie was only in his twenties, he had been through many battles—including several major engagements against the Qing army—and the Yongwei Camp's artillery battalion had always been under his command.

In warfare employing firearms, the essence was coordination between cannons and infantry: first use artillery to suppress and strike the enemy, then send in the infantry—this was the safest tactic.

If the cannons were powerful enough, one could drive the enemy back with artillery alone, but in that case the infantry wouldn't be able to pursue and expand the victory. Thus the most suitable tactic was for infantry and artillery to attack simultaneously, or to let the enemy come in first.

The timing of artillery fire was extremely precise. Wan Junjie had already run countless tests and calculations, and through multiple real battles, his grasp of when to open fire was still fairly accurate.

Watching the bandits' attack formation, Wan Junjie sneered: "This is the weakest opponent I've faced since I joined the army!"

If he were facing the Qing army, Wan Junjie would have ordered a full volley the moment the enemy stepped into range. But against bandits of this caliber, even with their numbers, he saw no need—waiting until they were closer would yield better results.

As the bandits began their advance, the artillerymen tasked with observation loudly reported the distances:

"Enemy at one hundred eighty paces!"

"Enemy at one hundred seventy paces!"

"Enemy at one hundred sixty paces!"

……

Only when the bandits' front ranks stepped within one hundred fifty paces did Wan Junjie begin waving his command flag, shouting at the same time: "Fire!"

"Boom! Boom! Boom!"

A series of earth-shattering thunderous roars exploded. The bandits a hundred paces away felt their hearts shudder and their eardrums ache from the blast; the several hundred bandits charging at the very front were so startled they plopped straight down onto the ground.

The musketeers lying atop the sandbags had long since stuffed cotton in their ears and covered them with both hands, watching the artillerymen put on their show at close range.

Over a hundred cannons fired at once, the tremendous roar making the very earth tremble as over a hundred pitch-black iron balls smashed viciously into the bandit ranks.

One cannonball screamed through the air and struck the head of a bandit soldier charging at the front, instantly shattering the man's skull. He didn't even let out a groan—his headless corpse toppled to the ground—while the soldiers behind him, before they could even understand what had happened, were mowed down in a whole row by the still-unspent cannonball.

Such a dense mass of bandits allowed the solid shot's killing power to be fully realized, the cannonball's tremendous force instantly carving out a bloody path.

Those struck directly by the cannonballs spat out mouthfuls of blood, their bones shattered; those merely grazed had their tendons snapped and bones broken, great chunks of flesh torn away.

Over a hundred cannonballs brutally plowed a sea of blood through the bandit ranks, as if the ground had been harrowed flat, leaving behind nothing but mangled flesh and severed limbs.

Some soldiers grazed but not yet dead writhed in agony on the ground, letting out heart-rending screams that made the bandits behind them feel their scalps go numb with terror.

The tall warhorse beneath World-Striving King Lin Yangcheng was killed on the spot by a cannonball, which also took one of Lin Yangcheng's legs with it. Lin Yangcheng collapsed to the ground in agony, howling without cease.

Wan Junjie, commander of the Royal Heavy Artillery Regiment, lowered his telescope, quite satisfied with the results of the first volley, and began ordering the heavy artillery regiment to continue firing to clear the field.

Although the heavy artillery regiment's red barbarian cannons used fixed ammunition, their rate of fire was still limited—at best one shot per minute.

The breech-loading cannons, being rear-loaded, fired far faster than the red barbarian cannons—three shots in two minutes, and skilled gunners could even manage two shots per minute.

Over a hundred cannons fired in an unbroken stream, volley after volley of screaming cannonballs smashing madly into the bandits, until the bandits were shrieking in misery with corpses strewn across the fields.

The rabble at the front of the bandit force normally wouldn't dare flee the field, because the cavalry and Old Camp soldiers were supervising from behind—turn and run and you'd be butchered. But this time was different: even their leader, World-Striving King, had been blasted into a mess of flesh. Who still dared to charge?

Lin Yangcheng's leg had been crippled by the cannonball, and he might have still been saved—an Old Camp soldier had just hoisted him onto a warhorse to retreat when, before they could even mount, a second volley blasted them both into dust, sending them to the afterlife together with World-Striving King.

After several rounds of artillery volleys, four to five thousand of the bandits' twenty-thousand-strong vanguard had been killed. The survivors fled for their lives, leaving behind a field of corpses and half-dead bandits writhing and wailing on the ground.

The several battalions watching from behind the formation all felt a chill run down their spines—these damned government troops and their cannons were something else!

Watching Lin Yangcheng's fate, Old Hui-Hui Ma Shouying sneered inwardly. Anyone could muster the courage to be a rebel, but not everyone had the brains.

This Lin Yangcheng was one of those brainless rebels. Men like him could never accomplish anything great—he was cannon fodder for the righteous army, and even more so, cannon fodder for history.

Ma Shouying scoffed. With brains like that, calling himself World-Striving King—striving for what? He'd strived his own life right out of existence! Might as well just call him Cannon Fodder King!