Chapter 1365

The detachments sent to the flanks were driven back. The Jianzhou formation, which had been thrusting forward, was hammered flat, then hammered inward until it caved. Once the Zhao Army's four hundred-plus fire lances had drawn level with the main battle line, they could open fire directly ahead in crisscrossing volleys, and every lead ball found an enemy.

The fire lances blasted, the Jianzhou Jurchens fell back, the pike companies advanced, and the two sides clashed in brutal melee. The reloaded fire lances followed up and opened fire again...

Men kept screaming and collapsing; men kept collapsing and then shrieking in agony. The corpses on the ground were thick enough to trip both comrades and foes. The screams and wails drowned out the shouting, and through it all the fire lances kept thundering.

When the artillerymen from the sampans came back ashore, lugging their firing tools as they sprinted toward the cannons, the Jianzhou Jurchen troops badly wanted to wreck those guns. But the moment they made contact, the Zhao Army's pike squares drove them back relentlessly — they simply could not get near.

The cannons were hastily adjusted, rapidly loaded, and fired. The boom of the guns rang out, and this wave of the assault was over.

The Jianzhou Jurchen soldiers were indeed fierce. They were untamed savages, born of the bitter cold of the White Mountains and Black Waters. They fought the Mongols and the Wild Jurchens to the death year after year, and their hunting and fishing life had even given them a knack for organization. But they were still men. They too could not endure excessive casualties — not when they could see no possibility of victory.

The cannon fire was a signal. It made the Jianzhou officers and men still holding on realize that this wave of the assault had failed. Not only had they failed to shake the reinforcements' "flimsy" formation, they had paid a hideous price in dead and wounded.

As they cooled down, the Jianzhou forces, high and low, suddenly grasped one fact: they had charged, and the enemy had been forced to fight on the back foot. Yet now, after all this fighting, the battlefield had not advanced an inch — it had been pushed backward. The Zhao Army's square battle formation was like a stone roller, crushing everything in its path. The men at the front could already see the corpses strewn everywhere and the wounded writhing in agony.

If the enemy had suffered the same casualties, the fight might still be worth continuing. But there was almost no sign of fallen men on the other side. The Zhao Army soldiers standing in the front ranks all wore face guards. Every man was clad in heavy armor of uniform specification. Long pikes and long halberds pointed forward, and their marching steps were perfectly synchronized. This was a wall of bronze and iron. This was impregnable. And now they had smashed their own heads bloody against it.

Death and injury in close combat were not what frightened them. What frightened them was charging forward to die, over and over, with no effect whatsoever. This Jianzhou Jurchen force had finally tasted the terror of firearms. So this was the power of firearms. The fire lances could punch through thick cotton armor and mail as if struck by a heavy hammer, and the cannons were simply beyond any defense — fast, furious, and unstoppable.

Their previous impression of firearms had come solely from the Ming army. Ming cannons were powerful but slow to fire, and their impact points were practically fixed — as long as you dodged with care, they posed no great danger. But this force that had landed was completely different. Compared to theirs, the Ming army's firearms were like firecrackers set off during the New Year festival — utterly beneath notice.

The fire lances crackled up ahead, and men kept falling. Cannonballs landed behind them, again and again tearing through flesh and sending blood flying. The Jianzhou soldiers at the very front could hold no longer. If they did not leave now, they would be trapped here and die.

The shouts of the company commanders and squad leaders urging their men on began to fade. Their banner men were their capital. If they were bled dry like this, would there ever be replacements? These days, every Beile and Beizi was pulling power into his own hands. Even if they scoured the mountains and seas and captured Wild Men as replacements, none would be assigned to them.

The rank-and-file soldiers had simpler thoughts. They did not want to die. They did not want to fight a battle utterly devoid of hope. If a man died or was wounded in a victorious battle, his family would at least receive some care and a share of the spoils. But dying here, in a fight like this, brought not the slightest benefit.

Once they had thought this through, and with the urgent prodding gone, the Jianzhou Jurchen soldiers began to panic, began to fear. At last, someone could bear it no longer. He threw down his weapon, turned, and fled. They had always been victorious, always without rival. Only now did the Jianzhou Jurchen soldiers discover that they could run. One man fled. Some tried to stop him; others were tempted. But the boom of the cannon that followed shattered every man's resolve.

More and more men turned and fled. The Jianzhou Jurchen formation began to collapse — a total collapse. It was fortunate that their formation had not been too dense when they charged, so the retreat did not trigger trampling or fratricide.

But a rout was a rout. Every cannon blast behind them made the rout more absolute. Cannonballs still plunged into the crowd, and the rearmost units even took a volley from the fire lances.

Zhuang Liu led the various companies and did not pursue. He simply set up defensive positions within the secured perimeter. The Liaodong guides watching this were dazed. They thought: you can see with your own eyes that the enemy is crumbling — why aren't you pressing the victory and chasing them down? Instead, you're calmly digging trenches and piling earth right here. Is this any way to fight a war?

These men from Liaodong had seen too many Jianzhou Jurchen victories, too many Ming army collapses — from great defeats to victories that turned into defeats, from magnificent opening surges to wretched, panicked routs. Because they had seen so much, they had no faith whatsoever in the victory before their eyes. They felt they had to press the advantage and pursue, kill more Jurchen soldiers, and only when every last one was dead would the victory be truly sealed. Otherwise, they simply could not rest easy.

"These Tartars aren't any stronger than the Ming army, are they?"

"When we fought the Ming army and the roving bandits, it went pretty much the same way. Why does everyone say the Tartars are so tough?"

"Maybe these aren't the Tartars' main force?"

The Zhao Army landing troops, fresh from fierce combat, showed no excitement. After a few cheers, they began fortifying their position, and it was grueling, nonstop labor — digging trenches and piling ramparts, sweat pouring like rain. This sight, too, made the guides click their tongues in amazement. The old government troops would never have done such work. They would have simply grabbed civilian laborers to do it. That press-ganging had even driven many commoners to defect to the Jurchens.

Zhuang Liu did not linger on this victorious battlefield. The enemy here had been mopped up. The next task was to clear Jinzhou's port. Though the docks and berths there were also crude in the extreme, they were still more suitable for landing and unloading cargo than this mudflat. The most urgent thing now was to bring the main force over.

"Second Master is here!" someone called to Zhuang Liu. Only those at company commander rank or above in the First Brigade would use that cry of "Second Master" — they had all called him that back in the day.

Zhuang Liu assigned a few companies to secure the nearby port while leading men to go meet him.

Chen Sheng had also come ashore by sampan. When he reached the shallows, he likewise jumped into the sea and advanced toward the shore with his long halberd. Once he was out of the water, his personal guards helped dry him off, and he changed directly into his armor.

"Division Commander, you shouldn't come ashore at a time like this. Wait until the port is secured..." Zhuang Liu stepped forward and said.

Chen Sheng had been staring at the distant battlefield. He cut Zhuang Liu off with an impatient wave of his hand and said gruffly, "Spare me the useless talk. I'm not a three-year-old child. Muster your regiment, take the cannons, and hit the Tartars' camp. Drive them out. Do they think this is a stage play — that they can just go back to camp and rest when they can't win?"

"It's a pity the cavalry regiment didn't come with us. Fighting the Tartars like this, we can win, but we just can't exploit the victory." Zhuang Liu acknowledged the order and added offhandedly.

"First, secure a foothold here in Jinzhou and open the sea route to Dengzhou. There's no need to think too much about anything else," Chen Sheng said.

Zhuang Liu acknowledged the order, turned, and ran toward his regiment. He had only gone a few steps when Chen Sheng called him back and added a warning: "Be wary of the Ming troops inside Jinzhou city. They are not on our side."

Zhuang Liu paused for a moment, then grinned and nodded. "Rest assured, Division Commander. Your subordinate knows who is a friend and who is an enemy."

More and more companies assembled on the mudflat. The soldiers helped each other into their armor. The fire lance soldiers sorted out their gear, lit their match cords in the braziers, then grabbed their fire lances and advanced at a quick march.

Surrounded by his retinue, Chen Sheng walked toward the front. On the docks to one side, the Jianzhou Jurchen garrison had already retreated in panic. They knew full well how critical this dock and its berths were — holding them would block the reinforcements from coming ashore. But their main force had already been routed and sent fleeing in utter disarray. How could they possibly hold on?

Some ships had already begun entering the berths. Sailors had gone ahead onto the dock and were looping ropes around the stone bollards. Once the ships were moored, the larger cannons could be unloaded.

By the time the Second Regiment of the First Brigade, at full strength, appeared beneath the walls of Jinzhou, the Jianzhou Jurchen camp could no longer hold. Their earthwork and timber fortifications and encampment could not withstand the cannon bombardment at all — especially now that the Second Regiment had brought over a dozen cannons with them.

This Jianzhou Jurchen force paused only briefly inside their camp before the entire army immediately withdrew northward. They had realized that these reinforcements from the sea did not move quickly and could not pursue. At this point, they could no longer worry about baggage or equipment — they did not even have time to set fires. Cannonballs kept crashing into the camp; who could care about anything else? The officers and cavalry left first, the infantry retreated after them, and in no time they had all vanished.

Zhuang Liu did not send the Second Regiment in pursuit. Without cavalry, the killing effect of a pursuit was very mediocre. Besides, the most urgent task now was maintaining security around Jinzhou.

The walls of Jinzhou were already packed with people — so crowded it was almost jammed. Every single person was gazing west, straining to see how the battle was unfolding.

When the main Jianzhou Jurchen force surged forward to attack, a collective sigh rose from the city walls. Some even grumbled that these country bumpkins and local strongmen had no idea how to use troops. The seashore was so cramped and narrow — to take a hard stand against the Tartars there, with no room to maneuver, did they think they could pull off some "fight to the death and survive" miracle?

Chen Jisheng and Zhang Pan, meanwhile, were barking a steady stream of orders, telling the Jinzhou garrison to hurry and clear the blocked city gate passage. Regardless of the danger of going out, they had to do everything in their power to tie down the Tartar army so the reinforcements could gain a foothold on the shore. The gate passage had been completely jammed and sealed shut; digging it open would take a great deal of time.

But before the work was even half done, incredulous shouts came down from above. Everyone was yelling, "The Tartars are retreating!" A moment later, they were even shouting, "The Tartars are defeated!"