Chapter 703: Fleeing in Panic

Hong Chengchou's reinforcements spread out across the open plain.

Bai Guang'en's camp was like a spearhead, but now that spearhead had only clashed once with Ren Quan'er's Second Brigade before it was snapped in two.

The moment he saw the routed troops fleeing north, Hong Chengchou was furious, grinding his teeth and making up his mind to execute that wild dog Bai Guang'en on the spot to uphold military law.

In Hong Chengchou's heart, Bai Guang'en truly was like a wild dog — fierce and bold, with a strange temperament; without the familiarity that came from daily feeding, one always had to assign tasks with a guarded mind, yet he was also extremely easy to keep, always slinking back on his own like a stray cur after a defeat.

But this time was different.

Bai Guang'en, who seemed to have a thousand lives, did not manage to flee back to the main formation like a stray cur.

The dire news, carrying a chill, silently crept into Hong Chengchou's heart, giving rise to fear.

Because Bai Guang'en was very skilled at running away — he would not surrender, nor would he lose his way like a headless fly; he would certainly lead his defeated troops back to the main formation.

Now that he had not returned, he was most likely either captured or had met with misfortune.

Hong Chengchou gathered the routed troops and ordered the highest-ranking military officer to be brought before him, but the man who came was only a Brigade Commander named Liu Can.

This man was an unfamiliar face to Hong Chengchou; his only impression was that he was a military officer who had followed him from Gansu.

Liu Can was utterly bedraggled, his hair disheveled, his helmet — punctured with holes from rocket blasts — cradled in his hands, his blue satin dragon-roundel cloth-faced armor soaked with mud up to his chest, and his boots squelching water with every step he took.

Clearly, on his way back to the central army, he had at least crawled through one irrigation ditch.

The sight of his wretched state filled Hong Chengchou with disgust; he snorted softly through his nose before asking, "How many enemy troops were there? Were you surrounded?"

Facing Hong Chengchou, Liu Can dared not even breathe heavily, let alone raise his head. He could only kneel on the ground and say in a muffled voice, "Commandant, it was rockets. The enemy had only a single wagon battalion. Upon first sighting our troops, they immediately fired several hundred rockets in succession. It seems General Bai was blown up right at the front. The various units lost command, the battlefield fell into chaos, and the enemy then charged from both flanks with arquebus wagons. Our troops were thus..."

Halfway through, Hong Chengchou could listen no longer. He waved his hand in disgust and said, "Drag him away... Get out!"

Such talk was clearly nonsense. He was in a towering rage, wanting to kill anyone he laid eyes on. He had originally intended to have Liu Can beheaded, but at the last moment, reason forcibly held him back and spared Liu Can's life.

Killing him was pointless.

Before Liu Can had even stepped out of the central army command tent, Hong Chengchou shot a meaningful glance at his own Guard Battalion Vice General, Ding Zizhen, who stood waiting at the side: "Take him into custody first. Interrogate the routed soldiers on how they were defeated. If there is even half a word of falsehood in his account, use his head for the blood sacrifice to the banners."

Hearing these words, Liu Can, who had been trembling with fear, actually calmed down somewhat.

In truth, Liu Can being placed in Bai Guang'en's camp was itself a result of the loose organization and chaotic personnel assignments of the three garrisons of Ningxia that Hong Chengchou had newly reorganized.

Because every defeat Bai Guang'en had suffered, Liu Can had been part of as well.

The same instinct Bai Guang'en had to run the moment he saw rockets — Liu Can had it too.

Liu Can had indeed fabricated a small part of his report about the Marshal Army's offensive, but since Hong Chengchou did not press for details, Liu Can was not inclined to elaborate.

He was a Gansu officer by origin, formerly a Squad Commander in Ganzhou, once subordinate to Ganzhou Mobile Corps Commander Li Yun, and had witnessed with his own eyes the first time Bai Guang'en was blown apart by rockets.

Because Li Yun had been killed by Wang Ziyong, he was released back by Zhang Tianlin and reassigned into Bai Guang'en's camp, where he then personally experienced Zhang Tianlin bombing Bai Guang'en a second time at Huangyangchuan.

His understanding of rockets was also quite extensive.

Put these officers together, and the entire camp would automatically disintegrate at the sight of rockets.

In this battle, the biggest fabrication in Liu Can's report was that their camp did not collapse under arquebus wagon fire after being bombed.

Rather, the instant the rockets soared into the air, every officer at every level in the entire camp, under the pressure of death, displayed extremely high military competence — each unit independently executed the formation conversion of rear ranks becoming front ranks and retreated in great strides.

By coincidence, the opponent they faced this time was not Zhang Tianlin.

People like Zhang Xianzhong and Ouyang Gun understood rockets even less than Bai Guang'en and Liu Can did.

Zhang Xianzhong in particular — he held only the rank of Brigade Commander in the Marshal Army, without actual command of troops, and had never even seen anyone fire rockets; he had only heard others speak of Liu Chengzong's rocket projectiles.

Therefore, he knew nothing of weapon parameters like range and blast radius.

When he saw the enemy approaching and felt the distance was about right, he ordered the rocket wagons to fire, all based on the kind of simple rockets without stabilizing rods that Zhang Tianlin used.

But for the full-version rocket projectiles mounted on the rocket wagons, the firing came a bit too late.

The result was a terrifying coincidence.

This wave of rocket projectiles should not have hit many people, but the Ming troops, seeing the rockets launch, immediately turned and ran back — many of them ran right into the firing range and got bombed.

And Bai Guang'en, waiting for death at the front of the formation, was not hit. He simply lost his will to fight, abandoned command, and fled, causing his leaderless army to be smashed by the Marshal Army's arquebus wagons.

Such a battle outcome — not only did Hong Chengchou not believe it, even Ouyang Gun, commanding on the Marshal Army's side, felt as if he were dreaming.

Because everyone knew that kind of shock-assault wagon had long since left the battlefield.

After all, no matter how strong a wagon's shock capability was, its mobility was far inferior to cavalry, and its demands on road conditions were too high — it was too easily blocked by fortifications and trenches.

Most critically, a wagon required at least two horses to pull it. If even one horse was wounded by an arrow, the entire wagon would lose power and break down.

The Marshal Army's arquebus wagons were not a conventional arm at all, but an improvised troop type cobbled together under the pressure of circumstances.

They had simply equipped each squad with an accompanying supply wagon, mounted a heavy arquebus support on the wagon, and during marches the soldiers would throw their rations, water skins, bedding, and arquebus ammunition onto the wagon to lighten their marching burden.

In proper battle, the drill manual still required soldiers to fight on foot or horseback; charging an enemy formation with heavy arquebus wagons was simply not considered.

Because in a heavy arquebus wagon charge — though it bore that name — the weapon could actually only serve as a firing platform for bird guns or three-eyed guns during the charge.

Whether heavy arquebus or heavy musket, the overly long barrel made it impossible to reload during a charging attack.

On this point, the heavy musket was slightly better. Some heavy musketeers with exceptional firearm skill and superb physical conditioning could even reload on a galloping horse, but such men were exceedingly rare — even in the veteran-packed Marshal Army, you could not find many.

But a heavy arquebus with an eight-foot barrel was a pure monster — you needed an infantry spear just to use as a ramrod.

Mounted on a wagon, its muzzle extended nearly past the horse's head, its firing angle limited to sixty degrees forward and back, and it was absolutely impossible to reload on the move.

Yet no commander would ever treat a heavy arquebus wagon as merely a firing platform for three-eyed guns or bird guns.

After all, the advantage of using a heavy arquebus on a wagon was its long range — it could kill enemies beyond the range of individual firearms. Once inside range and in a mutual exchange of fire, the draft horses were easily wounded or killed.

Ouyang Gun felt as if he were dreaming, while Zhang Xianzhong, like a demon, chattered incessantly in his ear, urging him to advance, urging him to attack.

And then, violating every bit of his common sense, with rocket projectiles trailing overhead, infantry and cavalry rolling forward behind, and heavy arquebus wagons charging on both flanks, they never even paused, simply lunging forward in march column and smashing an entire enemy camp to pieces.

Even in the post-battle review, he felt that he... had fought with considerable method.

Losses were extremely light. The heavy arquebus wagons that charged out from both flanks basically broke down immediately — the enemy's Frankish cannons, spraying grapeshot, could stop several wagons in a single volley.

Not to mention there were some mad cavalrymen, charging up with thick tubes like rapid-thunder guns and firing rockets that flew wildly in all directions — truly wildly in all directions; some rockets, after leaving the barrel, were caught by the wind and turned to shoot diagonally backward.

A cavalryman would fire three rockets and then flee at full gallop; the wagon's draft horses, struck by iron pellets, would bolt in pain and tear the wheels right off.

Still, the soldiers on the wagons could use the wagon itself as cover and fire back at approaching enemies with heavy muskets or three-eyed guns.

You wouldn't believe it, but although the three-eyed gun's main role in the Marshal's army was as a tool — fitted with a spade or hoe head on the butt end for digging trenches — in close-range defense against enemy cavalry, it hit true every single time.

Then the infantry and cavalry caught up and drove off the enemy riders, so the lift-gun war wagons actually suffered very little loss.

In a battle settled so quickly, Ouyang Gun's Raider Battalion had fewer soldiers killed or wounded than warhorses.

The speed of the fight exceeded everyone's expectations. By the time Ma Ke led his cavalry onto the battlefield, Ouyang Gun and Zhang Xianzhong had nearly finished policing the field.

Ma Ke was so furious he hurled his guandao to the ground. "Director Zhang, it's over already?"

"There's more up ahead."

Zhang Xianzhong, seated on an overturned wagon and holding a white-made rocket gun pointed at the sky — from behind, all you could see was the inner face of the shield — turned his head toward Ma Ke at those words.

He saw Ma Ke toss his reins to a subordinate and stride over in great steps.

Zhang Xianzhong jutted his chin northward and grinned. "Eighteen li out. It was ten li, but once their front line collapsed they shrank back again. All eight battalions were so spooked they dug in on the spot."

Ma Ke was startled too. "Twenty or thirty thousand men?"

"More, not less. If it weren't for yours truly, Ouyang Gun wouldn't even dare police the field."

As he spoke, Zhang Xianzhong tossed the rocket gun to the ground and tilted his head back with immense pride. "And look what happened — that donkey's ball Hong chickened out first!"

Zhang Xianzhong was practically dying of satisfaction.

Nearly two years at Liu Chengzong's side, not even daring to curse — he'd almost turned into a civilized man.

Finally let loose, fighting this battle and getting to play with the newest rockets — it was thoroughly exhilarating.

"Eighteen li out — have the scout riders pinpointed the enemy commander's position?" Ma Ke's hands were still itching. "Let me charge them once."

"Tch. If charging were an option, Old Zhang would've gone long ago and cut through their lines to kill their general."

Zhang Xianzhong raised an eyebrow and looked Ma Ke up and down. "You made the trip for nothing, kid. That Three-Border Supreme Commander, that Hong, came fully prepared — scattered caltrops, set up chevaux-de-frise. Perfect timing, now that you're here: help escort the prisoners back and regroup with Marshal Ren."

"This..."

Ma Ke was so stifled he couldn't catch his breath. Damn it, he'd just got here and now he had to run back?

Zhang Xianzhong thought to himself, you think I want to run?

Eight battalions — they wouldn't even need to deploy. If they came sweeping down without a single detour, they could envelop these four or five thousand men of theirs. If their own reaction was even a little slow, they'd be surrounded on all four sides, and they probably couldn't hold out for even a single two-hour watch.

Just as they were gathering up every usable weapon, suit of armor, and piece of equipment from the battlefield, loading them onto the war wagons, and driving the captured mules and horses in preparation to withdraw, a scout rider suddenly retreated into the formation.

Moments later, Ouyang Gun strode over briskly, his face alight with excitement. "We've made contact with First Brigade's scout riders to the northwest — they're in pursuit of Hong Chengchou!"

"Huh?"

Zhang Xianzhong and Ma Ke stared at each other, both faces filled with utter bafflement.

Truth be told, Ren Quan'er's Second Brigade had performed brilliantly in this campaign. Since setting out from Hongsibao, in four days and three nights they had successively annihilated or forced the surrender of five enemy battalions.

But their actual area of operations was not large — just within the hundred-li radius reachable in those two days — and the fighting process could hardly be called grueling. They'd even rested for two days while besieging Zhang Yingchang, with each battalion taking a turn.

Liu Chengzong's personally led First Brigade, on the other hand, was absurd. They'd started at Hongsibao, then gone forty li to Mingshazhou, then crossed the river fifteen li to Zaoyuanbao, and later word came that Guangwuying, sixty li away, had surrendered too.

And now First Brigade had shown up to their northwest.

Zhang Xianzhong counted on his fingers, did the math in his head, then looked up at Ma Ke with incomprehension. "That's over two hundred li they've bolted across. What the hell is the Grand Marshal's First Brigade — iron men?"

Marching sixty li in a day wasn't strange; plenty of units could move faster than that.

The problem was, this army of theirs hadn't had a proper rest since setting out from Xi'an. After marching eleven hundred li without pause, they'd then bolted another two hundred li in four days — and from the looks of it, they meant to keep bolting.

Comparatively, walking a hundred li to beat up Zhang Yingchang on the Gold and Silver Flats with the Second Brigade was a lot more comfortable.

Zhang Xianzhong hopped down from the overturned wagon, clapped his hands in satisfaction, straightened his civil official's iron helmet, and said to Ma Ke, "Alright, no need for you to head back. The Grand Marshal's orders will be here soon. I figure Second Brigade is going to link up."

As he spoke, Ouyang Gun had already summoned a dispatch rider. "Send word to Marshal Ren that the Raider Battalion has sighted the Grand Marshal's scout riders — tell the rear to start making preparations."

Not long after the order went out — less than half a two-hour watch — Ouyang Gun, Zhang Xianzhong, and Ma Ke eagerly met the scout rider.

More precisely, a scout rider who had come galloping back.

The scout rider brought not orders from Liu Chengzong, but an urgent forward report. "General! The eight enemy battalions ahead have struck camp. They're splitting into two wings and sweeping toward us — moving fast. They'll be in sight in a quarter of a two-hour watch at most!"

"You — report the enemy's approach to the Grand Marshal. Tell every scout rider along the way to fall back to our main formation. And send another scout rider to report to Marshal Ren and request reinforcements!"

"Speak of the devil!" Ouyang Gun said to the scout rider, then turned and asked Zhang Xianzhong, "Director Zhang, do we withdraw south, or dig in and hold here?"

"South?"

Zhang Xianzhong was dumbfounded by the question. "If we're retreating, we retreat west. What the hell would we retreat south for? No retreat. The Grand Marshal is chasing that bastard Hong. If we pin them down here, we can save the Grand Marshal some legwork. We've already run over thirteen hundred li — that's far enough."

He made it sound breezy, but in truth Ouyang Gun knew perfectly well that not retreating wasn't because their odds were good — it was because retreating right now was too dangerous.

Once the enemy troops started moving and the scout riders got word back to the rear, both sides were already close enough that climbing a dirt hill would reveal the dust clouds.

No matter which direction they fled now, they'd be overtaken. And if they were caught before they could form ranks, cavalry would tear their marching column to shreds.

"It's not all bad."

As a veteran commander, Ouyang Gun — despite having very little say in Second Brigade — was far more composed and level-headed than the others when trouble struck.

He looked north. The dust of the enemy column's advance was not yet visible. "Pass the word to all units: leave behind the broken wagons and horses, the captured coin and grain, and the wounded horses. Throw the dead horses off the wagons too. Move southwest at speed in formation for three li!"

Zhang Xianzhong bristled the moment he heard it. "Throw away the horses too? Why not take them along?"

"If they're bold enough to advance, it's because they don't know the Grand Marshal is on their flank. Our army is fleeing in panic — so we have to look like we're fleeing in panic."

With that, Ouyang Gun looked at Ma Ke. "General Ma, have the guerrilla cavalry form ranks three li out. Once my troops arrive and set up the wagon fort, the cavalry will enter the formation."

Amid the wailing of horns, Ouyang Gun said to Zhang Xianzhong, "Don't worry. Those wounded and dead horses — they won't get to eat them."