Chapter 323: Ignition

In the sixteenth year of Hongwu, the twelfth day of the seventh month, Shi Jing, third quarter.

Outside the city of Samarhan, the sunlight was blinding.

Zhu Yong stood on the city tower, his hands braced on the parapet, gazing at the black, oppressive army in the distance.

One hundred thousand troops were charging.

The sound of horse hooves was like muffled thunder, shaking the city walls into a slight tremor.

Smoke and dust blocked the sky and sun, like a moving earthen wall pressing toward Samarhan.

On the city wall, three thousand Longxiang Army soldiers stood motionless.

They had endured countless battles and seen countless enemies.

Northern Yuan's iron cavalry, Nüzhen's archers, Goryeo's infantry, Wa Country's warriors… which of them was not more dangerous than now?

But this time, the opposite side numbered one hundred thousand.

An enemy ten times their own.

No one spoke.

Everyone was waiting.

Waiting for that order.

Zhu Yong's gaze swept over the black, oppressive army in the distance, quickly estimating the distance in his mind.

Five li.

Four li.

Three li.

"Heavy cannons, prepare."

His voice was not loud, but the messenger immediately relayed the command.

On the city wall, three hundred Hongwu heavy cannons adjusted their angles, their barrels aimed at the army drawing ever nearer.

These heavy cannons were only standardized in the eighteenth year of Hongwu, with a range of three li and capable of firing flower shells.

When a flower shell struck a crowd, it exploded in a burst.

Zhu Yong had personally tested the cannon; a single shot within fifty steps turned people and horses upside down.

"Ignite the fuse."

The gunners lit the fuse, stepped back a few paces, and covered their ears.

Two and a half li.

Two li.

"Fire!"

"Boom! Boom! Boom!"

Three hundred heavy cannons fired simultaneously.

The sound was so great that even the city walls trembled.

The townsfolk inside, hearing the sound, huddled in their homes, clutching each other and trembling.

Outside the city, the charging Tie Mu Er soldiers, upon hearing the sound, were stunned.

They had never seen such a weapon.

The next second, a flower shell fell into the crowd.

"Boom boom boom..."

Explosion after explosion rose and fell.

Each flower shell that hit the ground became a blood pit.

Within dozens of steps, human and horse limbs were flung into the air, blood gushed, and wails merged into a chorus.

In the first volley, at least two thousand fell.

But the hundred thousand troops were too many.

Those in front fell, those behind kept charging.

Warhorses trod over comrades' corpses, pressing onward.

"Reload..."

The gunners swiftly cleared the barrels and loaded new flower shells.

The second volley harvested another thousand lives.

Third round, fourth round…

By the time the hundred thousand troops surged within a li, more than ten thousand were already dead.

The ground was littered with corpses, blood staining the Gobi beach red.

Yet the remaining over eighty thousand still charged.

Jia Hanji Er rode a white warhorse, brandishing a curved blade, shouting loudly.

"Charge, rush forward... they are few!"

The Timur Empire soldiers were spurred by the shout and kept charging forward.

But they did not know that something even more terrifying awaited them ahead.

…

Outside the city, the engineers' camp men crouched in the trench, holding fuses in their hands.

Zhou Da Niu watched the army drawing ever nearer, his palms slick with sweat.

He had fought for over ten years, never once having seen so many enemies at once.

But his hand did not tremble.

Prince said, "When they rush into the trap zone, pull the fuse."

He waited.

Five hundred steps.

Four hundred steps.

Three hundred steps.

"Pull!"

Dozens of engineers pulled the fuse at the same time.

Boom— Boom— Boom—

A more violent explosion sounded than before.

This time it wasn't a flower shell, but explosives buried underground.

Hundreds of charges detonated simultaneously; the force was so great that the ground itself trembled.

The cavalry charging forward were suddenly blown into the sky.

The severed limbs of horses and men mixed together, soaring through the sky.

Screams, horse whinnies, and explosions merged into one.

The over five thousand who charged at the front vanished in an instant.

The warhorses behind, startled, fled in all directions.

The Formation broke.

But more explosives awaited them.

Boom— Boom— Boom—

Another round of explosions.

Another few thousand fell.

When the smoke cleared, the battlefield was already a scene of devastation.

Pits dotted the ground, bodies lay everywhere, and the wounded men and horses cried out in agony.

Over eighty thousand, now more than ten thousand fewer.

Seventy thousand remained, halted in place.

It's not that they don't want to charge; they simply can't.

The startled warhorses refused to move forward no matter how they were whipped.

The soldiers, staring at the sea of corpses and blood ahead, trembled in their legs.

Jia Hanji Er halted the warhorse, his face ashen.

He hadn't expected that before even reaching the foot of the wall, more than twenty thousand had already died.

What weapons were the Great Ming troops using?

How could they be so powerful?

But he had no way back.

Father Khan was inside the city, and the capital lay within the walls.

He must charge inside.

"Dismount, fight on foot!" he shouted loudly.

The Timur Empire's soldiers dismounted in droves, forming ranks.

Fighting on foot at least avoided stepping on those traps.

……

On the tower, Zhu Yong watched the scene, a faint smile curling his lips.

Dismount and fight on foot?

Then that's even better.

"Flintlock Gun ready."

Three thousand Longxiang Army soldiers raised their Flintlock Guns, aiming at the outside of the city.

On the city wall, another five thousand Timur Empire infantry held curved swords and bows, standing behind the Longxiang Army.

They were the men of A Qizi.

A Qizi stood on the wall, watching the dense army outside, his palms slick with sweat.

They were his former compatriots.

Now, he would help Great Ming fight them.

He didn't know whether this was right.

But he knew that if he didn't, he and his wife and children would die.

The Longxiang Army men said, "If you do well, you get food; if you do poorly, you starve."

If you do especially well, you can even receive a reward.

A Qizi didn't want a reward; he just wanted to live.

He gazed at the devastated battlefield outside, and a strange feeling suddenly rose in his heart.

Perhaps Great Ming truly is invincible.

More than twenty thousand vanished like that.

They didn't even reach the wall.

The Longxiang Army men hadn't even begun to fight properly.

A Qizi swallowed, clenched his curved sword tightly.

Outside the city, the Timur Empire's soldiers formed ranks and began advancing toward the city wall.

Seventy thousand people, packed tightly, like a gray sea.

Step by step, they closed in on the city wall.

They were close.

Five Hundred Steps.

Four Hundred Steps.

Three Hundred Steps.

"Fire!"

Three thousand Flintlock Guns fired simultaneously.

"Bang bang bang!"

The sound was like popping beans, ringing everywhere.

The Timur soldiers at the front surged and fell in rows.

It was like cutting wheat.

The ones behind kept charging.

Then came the second volley.

Another few hundred fell.

The third round, the fourth round…

When the seventy thousand reached within two hundred steps of the wall, over five thousand more died.

But they finally got within range.

The archers began to release arrows.

Thousands upon thousands of arrows shot toward the wall, like a black cloud.

But the Longxiang Army wore plate armor.

The arrows struck the iron armor with clanging sounds, then fell to the ground.

They could not pierce at all.

The Timur Empire's soldiers were stunned.

Their arrows could not kill those armored troops.

But the guns of those armored soldiers, one shot per gun, each shot taking a life.

How can this battle be fought…

On the city tower, Zhu Yong watched the scene, a hint of satisfaction flashing in his eyes.

Plate armor combined with Flintlock Guns is a reduction‑dimensional strike.

These Timur Empire soldiers can't even forge iron armor; what can they use to fight Great Ming?

"Keep fighting, don't stop."

Three thousand Longxiang Army continued firing.

Rows upon rows of Timur Empire soldiers fell.

Seventy thousand people, dwindling.

Sixty thousand, fifty thousand, forty thousand…

Jia Hanji Er watched from behind, his complexion growing paler.

He had fought for twenty years and had never seen an army like this.

Those armored troops simply could not be killed.

Arrows could not pierce, swords could not cut.

The weapons in their hands could kill from several hundred steps away.

What kind of army is this?

He suddenly recalled the words in his father's letter.

"Great Ming is unbeatable."

He didn't believe it then.

Now he believes it.

But it's already too late.