Chapter 967: This Is What Cannon Really Means

They had clearly anticipated the enemy's moves, hiding and stationing all their main forces inside Ji'ning City, waiting at ease for the Xuzhou troops to come to them. They had clearly built up an overwhelming momentum, a thunderous display that should have thrown the enemy into panic. And the enemy clearly held a massive advantage: five thousand Divine Protectorate Army troops were roughly equal in number to the Zhao Battalion's main force, while the remaining tens of thousands were able-bodied young men who had waded through mountains of corpses and seas of blood, had undergone basic training, and could form ranks and formations. With numbers on their side, victory was in their grasp.

When sallying out to engage, they were not to hide their strength but to reveal their full foundation, further terrifying the opponent, then press forward with the momentum of a mountain or a tidal wave to utterly crush them. And that was not all — the Smelling Incense Sect had other means as well...

Not a single step had gone wrong, and every step had been executed without the slightest deviation, right up until the distance closed to two hundred paces. And then, the Xuzhou troops opened fire with their cannon.

The cannon fire roared like thunderclaps, unstoppable, sweeping away all who stood before it. One shot and you saw the comrades standing tall ahead screaming and dying, limbs severed, the forest of upright pole-arms snapping and shattering. One shot and dozens of lives were gone.

Seeing the scattered chunks of bloody flesh on the ground, hearing the agonized screams and wails in their ears, every man's heart froze with terror. Even if they were not the elite Divine Protectorate Army, they were men who had taken up weapons, killed, and seen blood. Facing an enemy blade-to-blade, spear-to-spear, clashing head-on and fighting to the death — being wounded or dying in battle held no fear.

But to be so cruelly slaughtered from several hundred paces away, separated by such a distance — no one could endure it, each man terrified that the next moment it would be his turn.

The Zhao Battalion's cannon crewmen were working with extreme urgency, swabbing the barrels, loading powder and shot. They did not worry for their own safety; they only worried that their rate of fire was not fast enough, that some mistake might occur in loading.

The third volley had yet to be fired, but wherever the cannon muzzles pointed, every man's heart trembled with dread, every man instinctively wanting to dodge and scatter. At a moment like this, who still cared about holding formation? They fled in chaos toward both flanks. But the distance between the various square formations was not great. One square collapsing still left room to flee, but if several squares collapsed at once, they would crowd into each other, even disrupting the other units.

The so-called "Divine Protectorate Army" had been revealed. From the moment they first appeared, those five square formations had been concealed within the mass of refugees. The plan, presumably, was to use the refugee youths to absorb and withstand the Zhao Battalion's ranged fire, advancing step by step until they closed the distance. Then, either the human tide would overrun the Zhao Battalion, or they could ensure their presentable elite troops engaged face-to-face. One could say these nearly five thousand "Divine Protectorate Army" troops were heavily guarded within a wall of human shields.

But now, the cannon had shattered both the human wall and their courage. The "Divine Protectorate Army" was now exposed. Compared to the panicked, routing square formations and battalion heads around them, the quality of this "Divine Protectorate Army" was far superior. They remained calm, their square formations still maintained with strict discipline.

Looking from afar, one could see scattered soldiers running around the Divine Protectorate Army, but the Divine Protectorate Army's own formations made no forward movement.

They had likely observed that the cannon's range was limited and could not reach their position. So the Smelling Incense Sect's Divine Protectorate Army held its ground. The surrounding rabble of able-bodied youths were expendable — more could always be conscripted and scraped together. But the Divine Protectorate Army was their foundation. As long as this was preserved, the Smelling Incense Sect's core strength remained.

"So they've just stopped dead?" Zhao Jin laughed involuntarily on horseback. The battlefield was now very quiet. The Smelling Incense Sect's massive rebel army had completely halted its slow advance. In places, there was already chaos and collapse; elsewhere, restlessness and unease. The whole force looked unstable. The gongs and drums on the city walls and behind the lines still beat incessantly, the banners still waved, but hearing and watching them now, they no longer carried the same shock. They only seemed feeble and exhausted.

The Zhao Battalion, from top to bottom, had also steadied. This was the cannon's first deployment in battle. During the march, many of the troops had seen them and knew of their existence, but no one had thought their power was so great. The government troops last time had cannon too, but what use had they been? A few shots fired and they were overrun. What truly decided a battle was still the thrust of the long pike, and perhaps the firing of muskets and bows.

Only after witnessing it with their own eyes did everyone realize they had been wrong. The cannon's firepower was this immense. Right before their eyes, the enemy's ferociously charging host had been stopped dead in its tracks after just two volleys.

Even someone as steady as Chen Sheng had a smile appear on his face at such a sight. This battle would have no twists or turns.

Meng Zhiqi, guarding the edge of the cannon battery, had also spotted those five Divine Protectorate Army formations. Though he could not fathom why they were not moving, that did not stop him from following the drill manual to the letter.

"How many paces out?" Meng Zhiqi bellowed.

"... Between four hundred seventy and five hundred paces..." the soldier ranging the distance called out the figure.

"One wedge, drive it in five-tenths!" Meng Zhiqi immediately roared. Every word he spoke was a shout, because during the previous cannonade he had not had time to cover his ears, and now they were ringing. He could only speak louder and louder.

The order given, artillerymen immediately took a sloped wooden wedge from the wooden chest behind the cannon. Several men took up wooden levers and mallets and drove the wedge between the cannon barrel and its carriage. "Five-tenths" referred to how deep it was driven.

The muzzle elevated, once it was tamped firm again, Meng Zhiqi took a rough sighting and bellowed another order.

Ignition. The muzzles belched smoke, a low, muffled roar sounded, and the cannonballs screamed through the air.

After the second volley, the third had been long delayed, which had slightly steadied the agitated and panicked Smelling Incense Sect rebel formations. Some had even tentatively taken a few steps forward.

When the muffled thunder of cannon fire roared again, the rebel formations shrank back in fright. But those five formations of the elite Divine Protectorate Army remained utterly immobile. They knew that at a moment like this, they absolutely dared not move recklessly.

The Divine Protectorate Army was positioned at the very center of the Smelling Incense Sect's battle array, which was also where the cannon were aimed. The third volley struck them head-on. The soldiers of the Divine Protectorate Army were already terrified, but they still dared not move.

They were all the most loyal followers of the Smelling Incense Sect, chosen able-bodied elite. Otherwise, they would not have been sent for training. Though they could barely eat their fill there, the training was utterly brutal. Standing at attention in formation, marching in step, obeying orders — one misstep meant the rod and the lash, even beheading as punishment. Under such training, obeying commands and keeping the formation unbroken had become an instinct.

Moreover, ever since the training began, those drill instructors had used beatings, scoldings, and punishments to tell them that once on the battlefield, this square formation was their fortress and stockade. As long as you stood inside it and the formation remained tight, you would live. If the formation scattered, you would die. Training and terror intertwined, and so the formation still held.

When the cannonade had just struck, there were also those in the know shouting to maintain order. If they advanced now, they would be delivering themselves to the cannon's maw to die. If they turned and retreated — the great array was already barely holding together. If they turned and ran, the formation would collapse, and it could very well mean a total rout. In any case, they were currently out of range. Better to wait for a change in the situation before responding.

The rumbling "thunder" sounded again. Over in the Divine Protectorate Army, especially those in the front ranks, everyone could not help but flinch. Cold sweat beaded on many faces. Yet they could still manage to hold still, because they all knew that in this situation, holding still meant life, and moving meant certain death.

Based on earlier estimates, the cannonballs should have fallen a hundred or so paces ahead of them. But this time, it was beyond expectation. The cannonballs flew farther than they had thought.

Tighter, denser formations meant even greater casualties when struck by cannon fire. Six cannonballs tore through the Divine Protectorate Army's squares. The long-trained Smelling Incense Sect Divine Protectorate Army had strict formations, far superior to the other refugee squares, and was the force that most closely resembled the Zhao Battalion's own squares.

Yet even such a force, a square formation that seemed like a sturdy fortress, was still only flesh and blood. It could not withstand the impact and tearing of lead and iron cannonballs. Two of the Divine Protectorate Army squares were shattered outright by those six cannonballs.

The comrade who had just been standing beside you suddenly had a massive hole torn through his body, a limb or a chunk of his torso simply gone. Your own face was spattered with scalding scraps of flesh and blood. What discipline, what restraint, what warnings — at this moment, none of it could compare to the shock of imminent death. These square formations could no longer hold.

So the Zhao Battalion's cannon could fire this far? Wasn't cannon only supposed to fire a fixed distance?

Two cannonballs, however, did not fly that far. They landed just over ten paces in front of the Divine Protectorate Army's ranks. The terrified soldiers breathed a sigh of relief, but that relief lasted only an instant. The cannonballs hit the ground and bounced up again, and once more, flesh and blood flew.

"Second Master, the Divine Protectorate Army can't hold!" someone beside Xu Hongju cried out hoarsely.

Both Xu Hongju and Xia Zhongjin were within the main host, surrounded by a hundred or so cavalry. Around them, another thousand or so able-bodied, tough young men stood ready as a reserve.

Compared to when they had worn plain clothes, Xu Hongju and Xia Zhongjin were now resplendent, dressed in embroidered official robes, with a suit of armor draped over them in a perfunctory, half-hearted manner. The others were also dressed in various official costumes, though anyone in the know who saw them would laugh and say they looked like actors on a stage.

At this juncture, however, their expressions were extremely grim. What they had thought was a sure victory had turned into this scene before their eyes. Their own massive, awe-inspiring host seemed like a joke. First, the beating of drums and gongs, the waving of banners and shouting of war cries. Then, the great host charged out the city gates to display its might outside the walls. And then, the enemy's cannon fired, and their own great array of tens of thousands could no longer hold...

Xu Hongju's face was ashen. He had received instructions from Xu Hongru. The Smelling Incense Sect's greatest threat now was not the government troops, but the Zhao Battalion from Xuzhou. Concentrate the sect's main force inside Ji'ning City, fight a decisive battle against the arriving Xuzhou troops, smash and annihilate them, and then the entire south of Shandong and the surrounding regions would be theirs to roam at will. To achieve this goal, they had to put on a show, even making a feint toward Ziyang City. Everyone only knew that Ziyang, the seat of Yanzhou Prefecture, was besieged by the refugee army, with urgent calls for help everywhere, but no one imagined that was not the real main force.

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