Chapter 1329: An Unprecedented Enemy

"Hold steady, hold steady! Volley only when they're close!" the company commander directing the matchlocks shouted. In Zhao's Army, anyone serving as a matchlock company commander or deputy had undergone one fundamental drill: visual range estimation. Both the commander and his deputy raised their arms, sighting past their fists to judge distance through several reference points. This gesture baffled the Jurchen soldiers opposite them, who wondered—were they about to start a shamanic dance before battle? The Ming shouldn't believe in such things.

"Open fire at sixty-five paces! Check your match cords once more!" Order after order was issued. The soldiers continuously adjusted their formation, ensuring every muzzle was aimed at the enemy.

No matter how arrogant and contemptuous they were, the Jianzhou Jurchens could see that these several hundred soldiers before them had steadied themselves, rather than being frozen by fear. Yet this still left them utterly baffled. Were they just going to stand firm and wait for a shower of arrows? What were a hundred-odd firearms worth? They'd fire once and be done, while bows could shoot volley after volley. A few hundred men would be completely routed in the time it took to burn a single incense stick!

The Jianzhou Jurchens kept pressing forward like this, and many were already growing impatient. The Great Khan and the Fourth Beile had both offered rewards and career prospects for this assault on the island. Every military officer of the Dongjiang Garrison, from Mao Wenlong down to the squad commanders, had a bounty on his head. What did these Xuzhou troops before them have? Nothing at all—just some iron armor and weapons worth taking. Who wanted to dawdle endlessly with them?

A company captain, seeing that the flank was already in position and they were nearing bowshot range, bellowed: "Don't let these Ming curs' tricks scare you! One charge and they'll collapse. The northern lot are still waiting for us!"

Those few words instantly ignited the pent-up tension. The bowmen in front quickened their pace, drawing their bows full as they advanced. With so many of the enemy clustered together, there was no need to worry about accuracy—just loose the arrows in their direction. And in that very instant, the matchlocks on the other side roared to life, and gunpowder smoke billowed.

At a distance of a few dozen paces, the matchlocks made no deafening blast. Amid the clamor of marching feet, the sound was unremarkable. In everyone's mind, immense power surely came with an immense noise—so what was there to fear? But just as the bowmen behind were about to surge forward, they saw their comrades ahead crumple as if struck by a massive sledgehammer, their bodies shuddering and collapsing to the ground. Some died instantly; others let out harrowing screams. And that was only an instant. Dozens of high-velocity lead bullets fired in succession, aimed at a densely packed crowd. When those in front fell, those behind were caught in the carnage.

The matchlock fire could not be that precise, but the Jianzhou Jurchen ranks were far too tightly packed, with no instinct to dodge at all. After the dense volley, the first three rows had become sparse and scattered. Those behind instinctively halted their steps. They were not yet capable of stunned disbelief—only utter bewilderment, still not grasping what had just happened.

Had this been Ming regulars, had this been roving bandits, the next moment would have been a rout. But the Jurchen bowmen charged forward on instinct, loosing their arrows as they reached the front. At sixty-odd paces, even though the Jianzhou Jurchens used heavy arrows, the shafts could still be lobbed over. And seeing the matchlock soldiers turn and withdraw, the Jurchen bowmen grew bolder in their advance, their arrow-storm growing ever denser.

Some matchlock soldiers at the rear ran too slowly and were struck by arrows, pitching forward to the ground at once. The others only ran faster. This sight, in the eyes of the Jianzhou Jurchen bowmen, made them grit their teeth and press forward all the more. The sudden losses from that concentrated fire moments ago—they would exact revenge for it now.

But there were only a few dozen matchlock soldiers in total, and they soon fled. Their achievement amounted to no more than killing or wounding a handful of men. The pike companies behind them, meanwhile, remained beyond bowshot range. The Jurchen bowmen did not retreat; those behind them were instead charging forward. These damned Xuzhou mongrels—now that you lack the cover of firearms, just wait to be shattered by our arrows!

"Charge with me!" Zhao Song roared, his voice muffled by his iron face-guard. He leveled his long halberd forward. The eight men of the first company's front rank all leveled their pikes. Sufficient distance had been opened between each rank, and with furious shouts they surged forward. When Zhao Song moved, the others moved with him. Not a single man hesitated or held back.

Arrows were still arcing toward them. Zhao's Army pikemen ducked their heads. They were clad head to toe in iron armor. Shafts striking their helmets did little more than jar them dizzily—it did not hinder their movements. Arrows hitting their breastplates simply glanced off. To inflict a wound, a shot had to strike an arm, a leg, or an eye. But in motion, how could anyone possibly aim that precisely? Arrows plunging downward from above—how could they have such accuracy?

This truly was iron armor. Bows and arrows were truly useless against it. The Jurchen bowmen realized this as well. Those at the very front tried to aim, but how many marksmen could hit a small moving target? What panicked the Jianzhou Jurchen bowmen even more was that the enemy was charging at them—charging forward with utter, reckless abandon. Some charged toward this direction, some toward the flank, but not a single man fled. All of them were charging with furious battle cries.

When they saw those matchlock soldiers withdraw, the Jurchen bowmen had assumed they were fleeing. Fire off their weapons, then turn and run—Ming troops always behaved that way. These Xuzhou soldiers before them didn't seem anything special either. They never imagined they would charge straight at them like this!

Though the beach was somewhat uneven and rather soft underfoot, who cared about any of that in a full sprint? A few dozen paces closed rapidly. The Jianzhou Jurchen bowmen had all been shooting forward, and now the front was somewhat congested. In this narrow, rugged terrain, the only way to spread out was to wade into the sea.

On one side was an upward slope; on the other, the seawater. Though both were passable, there was no way to run there in the sudden panic. And the Jianzhou Jurchen soldiers had never even considered running. They could not react in time. When they saw the coldly glinting spikes and sharp blades right before their eyes, they panicked...

They had truly charged right up to them. These men had actually dared to charge right up to them. Those who had crossed the sea wore only thin tunics, with no armor for protection. In truth, even padded cotton armor was only issued to the elite. Pikes and halberds pierced through the bodies before them without the slightest resistance. Withdraw and thrust forward again to kill. Those behind had no time to scatter. Press forward again. Arrows came flying at them, struck their bodies, and glanced off. Thrust again!

"They're charging!" "Run!" Everyone was screaming. The first company's front crashed into the Jurchen ranks, and the following ranks crashed in after them. The entire first company was like a hedgehog, its pikes and halberds its bristling spines, shoving and pressing forward relentlessly. To be stabbed, to be hooked—there was only death.

Those at the front fled for their lives in panic, while those behind still had no idea what was happening. The crowd rapidly began to jam together. For Zhao's Army pikes, this was a heaven-sent opportunity. Charge in and stab. Keep crashing in, keep stabbing. Some Jurchen bowmen drew their own sabers, but it was utterly useless. At last, some could bear it no longer and began hacking at the comrades in front and behind them. Packed together like this, death was certain sooner or later—better to save one's own life first.

At the Jianzhou Jurchen landing zone, several colonels still had no idea what was happening. Their line of sight was blocked; they could only hear scream after scream from up ahead. At first, they assumed the Xuzhou troops were routing, but they immediately realized from their own formation that something was wrong.

"Order the front to spread out! Use blades and whips on anyone who doesn't! Go! I don't care if they're our own men or bondservants—don't hold back, or I'll have your head!" Donggo Intu roared.

His personal guard captain acknowledged the order and led his men forward. Donggo Intu turned his head and bellowed at the burly colonel on the other side: "You, of the Šifuca clan! Get your men into formation! When those strange soldiers up front come at us, we'll be counting on you to hold them!"

Šifuca, colonel of the Plain Red Banner, nodded coolly, then turned and grimly passed the word down. Donggo Intu, his face dark, walked over to his side—his own troops had also been folded into this command structure.

"I've truly seen a ghost. How can these Xuzhou soldiers fight so well? Could those wild rumors actually be true?" Donggo Intu had already drawn his own weapon.

Šifuca turned his head and roared: "Let the main force keep landing! We'll hold them here!" Only then did he turn back and say coldly: "It's nothing but a pack of brats who don't know the height of heaven or the depth of earth. Give them a good beating and they'll be just like those worthless Ming curs. Let them charge. What are a few hundred men? Donggo, you go keep the main force in order. The key is getting ashore. Once we're ashore, everything can be steadied. Leave this to me!"

"Anyone retreating this way, kill without mercy! Press forward, and leave a fifty-pace gap with the front." Colonel Šifuca issued the order in a deep voice. Having one's own formation thrown into chaos by routing troops was a disaster on the battlefield. In the past, it had always been the Jianzhou Jurchens who sent Ming vanguard troops crashing into their own rear lines, collapsing the entire army. Now they had to worry about it themselves. As for the gap of a few dozen paces, that was to give the fleeing soldiers room to scatter—otherwise, there would be no space to maneuver.

The shattered Jurchen bowmen finally broke and scattered. Some fled into the sea, some ran toward the slopes, and others turned and fled back toward their own lines—only to be shot down at once by their own archers. Pursuing routed troops was the best chance to exploit a victory, but the first company, led by Zhao Song, ignored the fleeing Jurchen survivors and continued charging straight ahead.

The terrain where the Jianzhou Jurchens had chosen to land was relatively open. Zhao Song's first company charged up, and the second company quickened its pace. The two companies advanced side by side. The frontage of their crashing assault grew wider and broader, and the carnage grew greater.

By this point, the Jianzhou Jurchens who had already landed dared not be negligent. As the two companies' line formation charged toward them, a wider, thicker battle line waited to meet them. Jurchen soldiers wielding pikes stood in the front ranks, advancing slowly. For them, it was not yet time to charge—and charging at a full run would easily cause their own formation to collapse. Meanwhile, the Jurchen bowmen kept loosing arrows at them.

Clangs and clatters rang out. Most of the arrows glanced off armor. The sight made every Jianzhou Jurchen, from officers to rank and file, feel their eyelids twitch involuntarily. A few arrows happened to lodge in the gaps of the armor, making a soldier stumble. But those who could hold on kept advancing. Those gravely wounded or fallen did not affect the entire formation. These several hundred men charged at the several thousand before them, utterly fearless.

I wanted to rest in September and October, but I never expected things to develop this way. Thank you, everyone. I'll definitely push myself harder with the writing!