Chapter 147: First Battle

In the seventh year of Hongwu, at the end of the second month.

Jiuzhou Island, Deer Island Bay.

The Wa Country Southern Dynasty's great army deployed along the coastline, numbering over forty thousand men.

Bamboo spears stood like a forest, and crude bamboo shields formed a continuous sheet.

The warriors wore rough armor, while the foot soldiers wore only cloth, and the weapons in their hands were varied: bamboo spears, sharpened wooden sticks, and rust‑stained iron swords.

At the center of the Military Camp, Southern Dynasty General of the Western Campaign Ju Chi Wu Zheng stared gloomily at the sea.

He had already received news that the Ming fleet was drawing near.

"General, how many troops have the Ming forces brought?" the Vice General asked.

"Three hundred ships, at least thirty thousand men, and the commander is that 'Ghost King' Zhu Yong, along with Li Wenzhong," Ju Chi Wu Zheng said in a low voice.

Upon hearing those two names, the surrounding warriors' faces all changed.

Zhu Yong, the monster of legend who broke through Pingcheng Gate with three hammer blows, shattered Helin City Gate with a single hammer, and captured the monster Yesu alive.

It is said he stands two zhang tall, his waist a ten‑chi circumference, wielding two thousand‑jin massive hammers, and no one on the battlefield can block him.

Li Wenzhong, that name likewise rang deafeningly; when he followed Zhu Yuanzhang in conquering the world and in pacifying Jiangnan, his fame had already skyrocketed, for he was indeed a commander of both bravery and strategy.

Although Northern Yuan was pacified by Prince Zhu Yong, this world has not seen Li Wenzhong slaughter Northern Yuan, and the fate of Li Wenzhong becoming a slayer of gods has not yet arisen.

However, compared with Prince Zhu Yong, Li Wenzhong is still harder to deal with.

That is what these Wa Country people think in their hearts.

"Zhu Yong… Li Wenzhong… how could they come together?" a trembling warrior said.

"The Ming Emperor is going to wipe out our Southern Dynasty!" another warrior said with a wry smile.

Ju Chi Wu Zheng gripped his sword hilt tightly and shouted, "Why panic? No matter how formidable the Ming forces are, they cross the sea; our manpower is limited. We have forty thousand men, relying on coastal defense, and we may yet win a battle!"

Even so, he himself had no confidence in his heart.

…

At sea, the Ming fleet.

On the deck of the flagship 'Hongwu', Zhu Yong surveyed the coastline.

With his eyesight alone, even without a telescope, he could see clearly.

Beside him, Li Wenzhong, Wang Baobao, Lan Yu and other commanders stood solemnly.

"The Wa forces number around forty thousand, deployed along the beach, lacking proper fortifications; it seems they intend to decide the battle at the shoreline," Zhu Yong said, looking at the coast.

Li Wenzhong sneered, "Convenient, so we won't have to hunt them down after we land."

Wang Baobao frowned, "Prince, although the Wa forces are weak, their numbers are considerable; a forced charge onto the beach would cause heavy casualties."

"No problem, we have plate armor, Flintlock Guns, cannons... Send the order: line up all warships side by side, bombard for a quarter of an hour, then land."

Zhu Yong spoke.

As Zhu Yong produced a Flintlock Gun, Zhu Biao gave the Ministry of Works' craftsmen a great reward, spurring their enthusiasm; both cannons and other technologies advanced.

The ancients were never stupid; they were merely suppressed for too long.

"Yes!" the messenger ran to deliver the order.

Soon, three hundred warships formed a horizontal line on the sea, their side hulls aimed at the shore.

Each ship carried at least two cannons, some having five or six.

"Fire the cannons!"

Zhu Yong gave the order.

"Boom— Boom— Boom—..."

Hundreds of cannons roared simultaneously, their muzzles spitting flame, black smoke shrouding the sea.

Shells whistled toward the shore, landing amid the Wa troops.

"Bang— Bang— Bang—..."

On the beach, bursts of fire erupted, mud and sand splashed, and fragments of bodies flew everywhere.

When had the Wa forces ever seen such a scene?

The most powerful weapons they had ever seen were crude fire‑arms, with a range of only twenty or thirty paces and terrible accuracy.

Even with cannons, they had never seen one fire so far; unlike the Ming cannons, which could strike at such distance, a single shell could kill or wound a dozen people.

"Ah..."

"Help!"

"My leg!"

"...."

The wailing cries rose and fell.

After one round of bombardment, the Wa forces suffered over a thousand casualties.

Ju Chi Wu Zheng, hiding at the rear, said with a pallid face, "How can there be cannons with such long range..."

The Vice General trembled, "General, this is impossible to match! The Ming forces can fire from that distance, and we cannot even touch their edge!"

"Hold steady! Hold steady! Once they land, we still have a chance in close combat!" Ju Chi Wu Zheng roared.

The bombardment continued for a quarter of an hour.

The beach was littered with craters, Wa corpses strewn in all directions, and the wounded's wails were endless.

"Cease fire, land!" Zhu Yong ordered.

The warships began to close in on the shore.

The first wave to land were three thousand Shenji Camp soldiers, clad in full plate armor, wielding Flintlock Guns, with bayonets and grenades hanging at their waists.

Landing craft surged onto the beach, the soldiers leapt out and quickly formed ranks.

Form the formation!

The officers shouted loudly.

Three thousand soldiers formed three horizontal ranks: the first rank crouched, the second half‑crouched, the third stood.

Their movements were uniform and silent, grim and deadly.

On the Japanese side, Júchí Wǔzhèng saw the Ming troops land, his eyes brightening as he said, "The chance has come! Charge! Kill them all!"

"Kill the chicken give give..."

Twenty thousand Japanese troops launched a charge.

The samurai brandished their tachi at the front, the ashigaru held bamboo spears behind them, a black sea of warriors, their momentum terrifying.

Within the Ming formation, an officer calmly calculated the distance.

"200 Hundred Steps…"

"150 Hundred Steps…"

"100 Hundred Steps… fire!"

"Bang bang bang..."

The first rank's Flintlock Gun fired in unison, white smoke billowing.

The samurai at the front were struck as if by an invisible great hammer, collapsing in a sweep.

The tachi slipped from their hands, bodies rolled, blood staining the sand red.

"Second rank, fire!"

"Bang bang bang..."

The second volley fired together.

Another wave fell.

"Third rank, fire!"

After three volleys, the Japanese charge had lost a third of its momentum.

Even more terrifying, the Ming Flintlock Gun fired at a blistering rate; after each volley, the front‑line soldiers stepped back to reload while the rear‑line stepped forward to keep shooting, leaving almost no gap.

"Bang bang bang…"

The gunfire rang continuously.

The Japanese fell like wheat being reaped, piece by piece.

Their bamboo spears couldn't reach the Ming troops, their bows lacked range, and the few who surged forward were easily blocked by plate armor.

One samurai finally broke through to the Ming front line, raising his tachi high and chopping down fiercely.

"Clang!"

The blade struck the plate armor, sparking, leaving only a white scar on the metal.

The samurai froze, and before he could react, a Ming soldier had raised his gun and thrust a bayonet through his throat.

"Uhh…"

The samurai fell, his eyes never closing in death.

Júchí Wǔzhèng, watching from behind, his eyes tearing, muttered, "How could this happen… how could this happen…"

His prized samurai sword could not cut through the Ming armor?

At that moment, a second wave of Ming troops landed.

They were five thousand infantry, also clad in plate armor, wielding long spears and sword‑shields.

They quickly spread on both sides of Shenji Camp, forming a larger front.