Chapter 1363: Running Faster and Faster Amid the Cannon Fire

But at this moment, they couldn't stay in the seawater either. The Zhao family soldiers who had landed simply used their long spears to drive them up the shore.

"My lord, the Tartars' formation seems slower than before. Their foot troops were never fast, but they used to charge fiercely and never break apart." A Liaodong native guide who had finally calmed down offered an explanation.

Zhuang Liu had already lowered his visor and said in a muffled voice, "When the Tartars charge, find somewhere to hide yourself. No one will be looking after you!"

"Thank you for your mercy, my lord. I've fought the Tartars a few times following the higher-ups. This is the first time I've seen their niru spread out like this. They always used to cluster together." To notice so much and to stand here saying so much — this man already had some nerve.

The great host of Jianzhou Jurchens opposite looked as though ten thousand men were pressing forward all at once, but a closer look showed otherwise. Each niru and each battalion was widely dispersed, spread out flat, overlapping front and rear, making the display seem even more imposing.

Zhuang Liu let out a few muffled laughs inside his helmet and said, "They're afraid of the cannons..."

Over at the Zhao family army's cannon battery, men were already ranging the distance, using two calibrated wooden rulers crossed together and sighting with one eye. This was a method taught by the foreigners, and it proved very effective.

Seeing the enemy enter firing range, the battery's company commander turned and barked, "Spread the cannons farther apart! From now on, fire at the Tartars one cannon at a time. Forget about volleys — just kill them!"

With such a wide enemy formation and so many foes, there was no need for volley fire to maximize firepower. Just fire as fast as possible — every shot would kill. The goal now was simply to kill as many as possible. As for spacing the cannons farther apart, it was to prevent them from interfering with each other during rapid loading and firing. A stray spark would be a major disaster.

The artillerymen answered in unison. Several cannons were pushed farther apart. The three-pounder cannons and the even lighter pieces were easy to move. They wasted no time and opened fire the moment they were in position.

Compared to fast-charging cavalry, foot soldiers could not pick up speed so easily. This allowed the cannons to adjust their firing angles at leisure and shoot at ease.

Cannonballs screamed into the ranks of the Jianzhou Jurchens. Though their formation was already dispersed enough, the balls flew toward where men were densest, and there was simply no time to dodge. The balls struck the ground and bounced, sending shattered earth and stone spraying — this made it even harder to judge and impossible to evade. Several cannonballs fell in succession, immediately causing chaos in the Jurchen ranks. Men screamed; men fell to the ground. But for a force of this size, it meant little.

The main body's forward momentum did not stop. Although the cavalry had already reported that the cannon fire here was fast, the Jianzhou Jurchens, high and low, did not quite believe it. They had seen too much of what Ming armies were made of.

Believe it or not, everyone quickened their pace. There was still some distance to the mudflats. If they ran and charged in now, they would have no strength left when they reached the enemy. So they had to hold themselves back and march forward. And the formation could not break apart — once it scattered, there would be no momentum for the collision, and they would pose no real threat to the enemy.

The cannons roared again. The Jianzhou Jurchen host's forward momentum faltered for a moment. So fast? Could they even hit anything?

That question was soon answered. The shriek of cannonballs slicing through the air rapidly approached. A hit from one of those meant certain death. Even being struck by the flying earth and stone it kicked up would tear gashes in a man's body.

Before the cannonballs even landed, men in the path began to scatter, no longer caring about maintaining the formation. They crashed into other units and broke them apart. Niru commanders drew their blades and roared in fury, even hacking men down with their own hands, yet they could not stop the chaotic flight. In a cold-steel melee, men would not be so craven. But when those cannonballs fell, there was no blocking them. Armor would be torn to shreds, and there was no time to dodge. Worse still, the men firing the cannons were hundreds of paces away — this crushed a man's courage and will to fight even more.

Yet the main body still pressed forward. The main body still maintained a relatively strict formation. The places where cannonballs landed were not empty ground, and the Jianzhou Jurchen soldiers, who had seen cannon fire only a handful of times, had no way of accurately judging where the next shot would fall.

Lead balls weighing several jin tore through, shredding weapons, armor, and limbs in their path. The fragments and earth and stone that sprayed outward became lethal projectiles themselves. Some men died instantly. Some were unlucky, grievously wounded but not dead, lying there wailing and begging their comrades to give them a quick end.

Others, wanting no such fate, dodged as far away as they could. After a cannonball struck, men scattered from the spot as much as possible. Where a single cannonball landed, aside from the dead and wounded, a circle far larger than the kill radius would appear — and this made the formation increasingly hard to hold.

Every man quickened his pace. Get to the enemy quickly, and they would no longer have to endure this damned cannon fire. Then they could slaughter those reinforcements, who looked so few in number.

From battalion commanders to niru commanders, every man bellowed to hold the formation. Veterans of many battles, they understood perfectly: if the formation scattered, a dark mass surging forward would achieve nothing in practice. The enemy might even counterattack and turn the tide in an instant. But as they listened to the cannons roar one after another, every heart was heavy with dread. Not to mention the Eight Banners soldiers below — even the mounted commanders were either hesitating to advance or spurring their mounts to hurry forward.

Six cannons — two of them light pieces that had not yet opened fire. But the sequential thunder of the four three-pounder cannons made the Jianzhou Jurchen battle formation more and more restless. Their formation grew more and more dispersed. Each shot's killing power was not that great, but it made the entire host move faster and faster. Some men were speed-walking; some were even jogging.

The Jianzhou Jurchen center column's route was the main road leading from the city to the port. Though the road itself was not particularly wide or smooth, it was far better than the paths the wings were marching on. They quickened their pace, and with the better road, they soon pulled ahead of the others. What had been a thick, solid horizontal line became a triangle.

Quickly, that triangle split apart. The dense, solid horizontal line became three separate columns. The center moved faster and faster. Though the wings tried to keep up, terrain or other reasons prevented them. Yet everyone knew how vital it was to maintain formation — they could only run to follow. The entire force went from speed-walking to jogging, and some men even began to sprint.

Every cannon shot was a spur. Every shot made the entire force speed up. In the Jianzhou Jurchen ranks, some men even ran past the foremost archers. The commanders could no longer control their units. Their own troops and those of others had become hopelessly intermingled.

"Charge forward! Slaughter those cowardly Ming dogs!" Seeing that the momentum could not be checked, they decided to go with it. Now they had to make all the Eight Banners soldiers charge — to smash through that thin formation on the mudflats in one overwhelming rush.

Those reinforcements who had come off the ships were too strange. Unafraid of running aground, they had simply charged ashore under full sail. And then there were those firearms — so fierce and swift. Yet aside from that, their fighting was wooden. They had clearly been ashore for some time, but instead of pushing forward, they just stayed there, barely moving.

And the number of men ashore was far too small. No matter how fierce the firearms, the final decision still came down to blade and spear. Let the Eight Banners warriors shove you all back into the sea.

The cannons thundered. The previously orderly Jianzhou Jurchen force grew more and more chaotic. The niru of each commander, the battalions of each officer — banners mingled, soldiers mingled, even the officers mingled. It was a complete porridge. Yet still they charged forward without stopping.

Some men were already gasping for breath. Some had even collapsed to their knees from exhaustion. Yet their feet did not stop.

"Tartars after all," Zhuang Liu remarked offhandedly. "Any other troops would have turned and fled by now. Yet they can still keep marching forward."

Perhaps because of the calmness of Zhuang Liu and the Zhao family army's companies, the guides were not so panicked anymore. Those who had come from Dengzhou Prefecture, however, were still cowering behind everyone. It was even obvious they were eyeing the sampans on the shore, ready to flee at the first sign of trouble. But at least they dared to speak up now.

"When have the Tartars ever fled? It's always them attacking and others running. I've heard it told: a certain colonel took three hundred household troops against three niru. They had the Tartars pinned down and were beating them, but the Tartars just held on. In the end, reinforcements arrived. The colonel's men couldn't hold and ran first, and the Tartars turned defeat into victory again. And that was when the numbers were roughly even. When the Tartars have the numbers, their morale is sky-high — all they know is to charge. But then again, they've never lost either."

By the end, his voice had begun to tremble, because the great Jianzhou Jurchen host was pressing closer and closer. They could even hear the shouts of the enemy vanguard.

"No point holding out here. Run," Zhuang Liu said indifferently. The guides, hearing this, acted as if granted amnesty. They turned and fled. There were not many places to run — only to scramble onto the sampans on the mudflats, ready to push off from shore at any moment.

Meanwhile, out on the sea, the big ships and sampans were constantly loading and unloading in rotation. Men and supplies were being ferried over without pause. This unhurried composure baffled the guides. Could they not see that a great battle was about to erupt on the shore?

When the distance closed to a hundred paces, the cannons had all shifted to flat trajectory fire. Cannonballs shot out horizontally, plowing straight into the crowd and sending flesh and blood flying. But such killing could no longer stop the momentum of the charge.

The artillerymen were also very composed. After firing this round, they loaded the cannon swabs, ramrods, and the like onto small carts. Some pushed, some steadied, and they headed straight for the shore. They hastily loaded everything onto the boats, then pushed them out into the sea.

At this critical juncture, under the shouted orders of the Jianzhou Jurchen officers, the archers were finally brought forward to the front. There were as many as eight hundred archers capable of drawing a bow and loosing arrows. A force of archers this size could, by bowfire alone, annihilate an enemy several times their number.

But for arrows to hit, for arrows to kill, they had to close within seventy paces. And the Jianzhou arrows had heavy heads — their effective killing range was around sixty paces.

The commanders bellowed orders, even slashing mercilessly with their blades. It was not just to push the archers forward, but also to use this chance to reorder the ranks. Charging in such chaos was too dangerous. Only by reforming and then engaging would they have a chance of victory.