Chapter 1433: Common Sense and the Unexpected

This time they were wrong. The riders at the very front lost their balance on horseback just as if they had been hit by grapeshot moments before. Those behind did not yet realize they were dead. Only when they saw blood blossoms bursting from their comrades' chests and heard their heart-rending screams, when they saw the horses' thick leather barding still pierced open by the firelocks, the horses mad with agony, bucking and plunging wildly, the riders thrown from the saddle, the horses' blood spraying everywhere — only then did they finally grasp the power of the Zhao Family Army's firelocks.

"They can only fire one volley! Charge them, close in!" The shout now was the same as before — no matter how fast a firelock was reloaded, it could not match the speed of cavalry closing in.

Thinking of the harshness of military law, even the Jianzhou riders whose hearts were growing timid dared not scatter and flee. And the reasoning was indeed sound. They had either witnessed Ming army firelocks or their own side's Goryeo firelocks; after firing, reloading truly took time and effort. In that span, cavalry could already charge up close, could already shoot arrows and hack with blades.

These words thoroughly roused the Jianzhou riders' morale. With shouts, curses, and battle cries, they spurred their mounts forward.

They were wrong again. The Zhao Family Army's firelocks did need time to reload, but they were far faster than anything the Jianzhou riders had ever seen. Standardized equipment, standardized motions, relentless and unceasing drill — these ensured highly efficient reloading. Moreover, the Zhao Family Army's ammunition was nearly semi-fixed: both the lead balls and the powder were pre-measured in set charges, making wartime reloading convenient and efficient, even though the powder's potency was still unstable and had to be packaged on the spot before each battle based on the powder's condition.

The cavalry advanced another ten-odd paces, almost within range to draw bows and nock arrows. At that moment, the Zhao Family Army's firelocks roared again. The range was closer, the aim truer, and the killing power all the greater.

The riders in the front rank were as if swept by a giant scythe, toppling to the ground, men and horses alike. The Jianzhou riders behind were truly terrified now. A horse's vitality far exceeded a man's; horsehide was thick, tough, and resilient, no less than armor. Often a man, stabbed or slashed, would die or be gravely wounded and lose the ability to act, yet his mount would still buck and plunge wildly until it collapsed and died from sheer exhaustion.

But before the firelocks, struck by a firelock, a horse died with barely a struggle. And though the charging formation was not particularly dense, and was advancing and swaying all the while, the shots still struck their targets with uncanny accuracy.

The Jianzhou riders charging at the front watched their comrades fall one after another. In their ears, the death-dealing shriek rang out now and then. They watched the Zhao Family Army soldiers everywhere around the great wagon fort constantly rotating, the firelock volleys seeming as if they would never cease, and their hearts sank deeper and deeper.

"You sons of bitches, take another blast from your grandpa!" What made their hearts quail even more with terror was that the thick tube mounted atop the cargo pile had been reloaded and was about to be touched off again.

When firing their firelocks, they were behind cover; to reload, they withdrew. They cycled back and forth like this. But the reloading of that thick-tubed light cannon on the wagon top was done in full view of everyone, the motions just as crisp and efficient. Two men worked together to flip and invert the cannon body; someone took a swab and cleaned the bore, then loaded the charge and projectile, tamped it firm, and aimed it back toward the battlefield.

The steps to load a cannon were many, one could even call them tedious. Yet the Zhao Family Army men on the wagon top performed the loading drill with practiced fluency, looking as deft as a herdsman slaughtering and skinning a goat. The Jianzhou riders could not help but glance upward repeatedly. They had not expected it would be ready to fire so soon. Military law, orders — at this moment, all were cast to the back of their minds.

"Firing!" Someone raised his voice in a shout. The firelock soldiers beneath the cannon all ducked their heads and hunched their backs in unison.

With a thunderous "BOOM," the light cannon belched grapeshot that blanketed a fan-shaped sector dozens of paces wide. The eight Jianzhou riders caught within it had already been about to wheel their horses around, but it was too late to dodge. Visible to the naked eye, dense arrows of blood shot from the bodies of those Jianzhou riders, men and horses alike; the men were practically turned into sieves.

Men screamed in terror, horses neighed and reared wildly. The charging Jianzhou cavalry formation was already in chaos. At this point, the Jianzhou riders' charge slowed to a halt. At last, they did not have to keep charging down this road to certain death.

The charging Jianzhou horse troops fell back in disarray. That brief charge just now had been nothing more than an attempt to seize the moment and inflict casualties; they had not expected to be met with such a head-on battering. Dozens of corpses lay strewn in a tangled mess out front.

Compared to the main force of two thousand riders, this was no loss at all. But this blow to the head had utterly crushed their morale, sweeping away all their former arrogance and recklessness. At this moment, they finally understood exactly what kind of power the Zhao Family Army's firearms possessed.

The company commanders leading the troops looked at one another in dismay. They knew full well how Beile Amin led his troops, and they understood just as clearly how Beizi Yoto commanded his. If they simply retreated like this, they would surely face punishment upon their return. Yet to take this great wagon fort would likely cost considerable effort, and who knew how many lives would be left here.

None of them wanted the men under their command to suffer losses. But given the situation before their eyes, how could they bite through this without shedding blood? As company commanders, each leading hundreds or even over a thousand men, they were already figures of high standing within the Eight Banners, privy to many secrets — or at the very least, they had heard whispers of them. They naturally understood the significance of this great campaign.

"These Han curs are holed up inside their wagon barricade, refusing to come out, holding us off with their firearms. Taking this position will certainly cost lives. But since we've come all this way, failing to take it is absolutely unacceptable. I see no other way — we just have to smash through head-on. No matter how deadly their firearms are, they can't stop us if we charge with everything we have."

"... Wangzhafu's man speaks reason. None of us wants to bear the brunt alone. Let's all go in together, shoulder to shoulder. Tell the slaves not to stay mounted — when they get close, dismount and fight at close quarters. Even the Ming army's cannons out front were taken; what are these few thin tubes worth..."

With everyone speaking in turn, they settled on a plan. The various Jianzhou cavalry units began to re-form. Some men went to the front ranks, others to the rear. Those going to the rear had to strip off their own armor and give it to their comrades in the front.

Since they were going to charge a firearm position, wearing double-layered armor was only right. These riders were all brave warriors from the Jurchen niru and the Mongol tribes, men who dared to press forward courageously, seeking only advancement and reward. The company commanders above them had spoken plainly: as long as they won this time, military merits and rewards would be honored immediately upon their return, and there would be other pleasures to enjoy as well.

Compared to the preparations on this side, the great wagon convoy remained very quiet. Someone meticulous had already counted: at present, there were roughly a hundred-odd firelocks and one light cannon. This was very likely the full extent of the wagon convoy's arsenal. Even with the most generous estimate, doubling that number, how many more could there be?

That report from the men who fled back from the ambush in the hilly region — claiming several thousand firelocks firing in volleys back and forth — few believed that tale. Those men had suffered a crushing defeat and been scared out of their wits; they would spout any nonsense. Besides, that ambush had been a specially laid trap, so perhaps they had more men with firearms there. But what was this wagon convoy? It was bait, sitting there all alone, with no sign of reinforcements anywhere around. It might well just be a unit setting up camp. Even if such a unit had guards, how many firearms could it possibly carry?

And furthermore, in any decently organized battalion, if firearms made up one-tenth of the force, that was already considered a lot. One-fifth would be far too many. How much higher could it possibly go? This force of around a thousand men — wouldn't at least a third of them be civilian laborers specifically assigned to handle the wagons? Those men certainly had nothing to do with firearms.

Even at the most generous reckoning, these firearms could not stop a cavalry charge. At this stage, it was nothing more than a matter of arithmetic: how many casualties would they take before they could break through to the wagons, and then overrun this crude fortification?

Even the best archers could not hit their mark every single time, let alone with the far less accurate firelocks. Once the charge truly began, the number of dead and wounded would certainly be lower than estimated. And with such a vast ring of wagon walls and such broad, flat terrain all around, who said they had to charge from a single direction? When the time came, the firelocks might not be able to keep up, and perhaps it would come down to cold-steel fighting alone. Then, who knew, maybe the firearms would still hold the advantage.

On the battlefield, there was no room for ambiguity. An experienced commander would consider every possibility. Once he had thought through all these possibilities and their outcomes, and judged that he could accept the worst-case scenario, then he could decide whether to fight or not.

The several company commanders quickly understood what had to be done. The fire piles over there had already been lit as well. But firing flaming arrows required that the opponent have little ability to strike back, especially little long-range counterattack capability. The Zhao Family Army's wagon convoy clearly did not lack that.

Shouted orders rang out. The Jianzhou horse troops, who had been resting and reorganizing, mounted up one after another and began to ride forward. This time, they did not charge straight ahead. Instead, they rode out into the surrounding wilderness, making a wide circuit. Centered on the Zhao Family Army's wagon convoy, at a radius of a full three hundred-plus paces, they began to circle.

At this distance, not to mention firelocks, even somewhat inferior cannons would be powerless. According to the earlier scouts' reconnaissance and what had been observed in the fighting just now, this wagon convoy likely had no particularly powerful cannons. If they had, using them earlier would clearly have been more effective. The assumption was that they had none.

It was not that the entire horse troop was circling in one great ring with this as the center. Rather, the Jianzhou Jurchen cavalry split into several squads, inner rings and outer rings, all riding in circles around this point. At any given moment, there were cavalry squads at different positions. Standing at the center and looking outward, if one's gaze wavered even slightly, one would likely be dizzy.

Constantly, scattered light cavalry would dash in to about a hundred paces from the wagon convoy, then pull back. They were making probing advances as close as possible to observe any movement inside.

But they could not observe much. The wagons and log barricades screened the interior of the wagon convoy so tightly that little could be seen from outside. However, on the wagon tops in several directions, men could be seen standing and observing. The sounds of gongs, drums, and horns could be heard, and faintly, signal flags were being waved. Inside, they were surely making preparations as well.

Apart from the light cavalry probing forward, the Jianzhou Jurchen riders dared not show the slightest slackness or carelessness. Light cavalry also roved the perimeter. If there truly was an ambush, they would withdraw at the first possible moment. No one could afford such catastrophic losses. And as the reports kept coming back, they grew more and more reassured. There was no ambush whatsoever. In other words, even if the nearest Zhao Family Army troops rushed over at top speed, the fighting here would long be over.

After circling like this several times, a sharp-eyed man would notice that whenever the probing light cavalry returned with their reports, the speed of the various cavalry squads circling the convoy would adjust accordingly.