Chapter 427: Is the Dung Scoop the Point?
Before long, many people on the dock were munching on fried dough twists.
Crispy and crunchy, each bite echoed with a satisfying crunch.
If the gluttonous Heavenly Lord were to see these, he probably wouldn't be driven frantic—modern people are largely immune to the allure of fried dough twists. But for those living through the great drought, a single bite was incredibly satisfying.
Lao Nanfeng, munching on a fried dough twist, looked up at the sky, tears streaming down his face. "Ah, my glorious Central Plains world, how many good things you possess!"
He was in a moment of poignant reflection!
All three large cargo ships had finished unloading their goods. The captain of the warship, also holding a freshly fried dough twist, waved at Lao Nanfeng, shot him a meaningful glance, and then loudly ordered, "Set sail, we're heading home!"
The warship and cargo ships left the shore, heading upstream.
Lao Nanfeng's spirits lifted. He shoved the fried dough twist in his hand into his mouth, crunching on it as he quickly climbed the tallest watchtower.
On the watchtower, two sentries were peering into the distant woods with binoculars. Lao Nanfeng whispered, "Did you see anything?"
Lao Nanfeng gave a sly, domineering smile, like a mastermind. "Excellent, excellent!"
"Get the firearm soldiers ready, every man to a firing slit."
He quickly descended the watchtower, grabbed a Gao Family Village Militia soldier at random, and said with a grin, "Get ready for battle. The wooden stockade wall is single-layered, there's no space on top for men to stand, so the defense method is different from defending a city wall. We can't prepare rolling logs or crushing stones on the wall, and our own spearmen can't climb the wall to defend."
But this single-layer wall could have firing slits dug out for firearm soldiers, which was very conducive to hiding and shooting with firearms.
Large groups of soldiers took their positions, and were soon ready for battle.
Lao Nanfeng, taking the two hundred-plus cavalry Zao Ying had left behind, moved to a gate on the side of the stockade.
He said with a smile, "You wait here. Don't move without my general's orders."
The cavalrymen: "As you command!"
As the soldiers began to move, an air of tension spread throughout the stockade. The villagers immediately noticed the abnormality and began to whisper among themselves: "Did you see that? They’re preparing for battle."
"Are we going to fight?"
"It must be the rebels, right?"
"Oh no, what do we do? Our cannon ships just left, and the rebels are coming immediately? Are these rebels deliberately waiting for our cannon ships to leave?"
"Without the cannon ships, the salt smugglers only have a few hundred soldiers. Can they defeat thousands of rebels?"
The villagers were frantic with worry, and a large crowd surged towards Zhan Seng, waiting for him to make a decision.
Zhan Seng let out a long sigh: "Everyone, grab your tools! Sticks, hoes, rakes, pot lids, dung scoops—take whatever you have. Everyone has eaten their fill these past few days and has strength now. The rebel rabble isn't much stronger than you all, so don't be afraid."
"Master, we have all the other weapons, but we really don't have any dung scoops."
Two veins popped out on Zhan Seng's bald head: "Is this humble monk's point about the dung scoop? Can you grasp the actual point?"
Old Zhang Fei's main army has arrived!
As usual, thousands of men arrived at once.
Last time this fellow attacked the Gudu Ferry, he was pounded by cannon fire from the warships, and the rifled gunners on board shot several fierce bandit leaders, causing him significant losses. He also lost his adopted son, Little Zhang Bao, in the battle at Pujiu Temple.
However.
This time, he had even more men.
This was a typical characteristic of the late Ming peasant wars. In the early to mid-stages of the war, the rebel armies were almost guaranteed to lose every battle, yet the more they lost, the more their numbers grew. No matter how much the government troops beat them, their numbers only continued to swell.
Beat them soundly last month, and next month, they'd have a thousand more men!
Can you believe it?
Lao Nanfeng, a blade of grass dangling from his lips, looked disdainfully at the approaching bandit army, too lazy to comment.
Gao Chuwu, however, shook his head, speaking with typical Gao Family Village pragmatism: "These fellows have coerced many villagers from the surrounding areas again."
"There probably aren't many living people left in the villages outside Puzhou City," Lao Nanfeng said. "They've swept through this area again and again. Anyone still alive has either fled into Puzhou City, or hidden in Pujiu Temple, and then ended up here with us."
At this point, Lao Nanfeng grinned. "General Gao, do you know what this means?"
Gao Chuwu: "Huh? Testing me, are you? Don't look at me like I'm stupid; if I think hard enough, I'll get the right answer."
He really put his mind to it!
"Snap!"
A lightbulb seemed to illuminate above his head; he had it. Gao Chuwu chuckled, "This means we can drive the Solar Cars outside Puzhou without worrying about hitting pedestrians; we can just go wild!"
Lao Nanfeng: "..."
The nearby soldiers: "..."
Silence. An eerie silence.
After a long moment, Lao Nanfeng clutched his chest and said, "It means if this Old Zhang Fei lot doesn't attack Puzhou City, they'll have nothing left to loot and will have to leave this area to cause trouble elsewhere."
Gao Chuwu: "Ah? How can that be? We can't let them harm other people anymore."
Lao Nanfeng chuckled, "Then we'll have to kill Old Zhang Fei right here."
Gao Chuwu clenched his fists: "Good! Kill him."
"Kill them!" At the same time, outside the stockade, in Old Zhang Fei's rapidly approaching army, the bandit chieftain, Old Zhang Fei, was also shouting orders: "These salt smugglers in the stockade killed my son, Little Zhang Bao! I want those salt smugglers to suffer a fate worse than death!"
"Their cannon ships have already left! Xing Honglang herself isn't here! The salt smugglers left behind in the stockade are leaderless—they're just a disorganized rabble now!"
Old Zhang Fei roared, "All of you, put your lives on the line! Take this stockade, and those three ships of grain will all be ours!"
"Grrraah! Grain!"
When it came to avenging Little Zhang Bao, the bandit army seemed uninterested, but when it came to looting grain, their spirits soared.
What did three entire cargo ships full of grain mean?
Wealth! Freedom from hunger!
Many rebels' eyes immediately turned red with greed.
Seeing their morale high, Old Zhang Fei couldn't help but chuckle inwardly. "Excellent, with this momentum, this battle is secured." Although the enemy no longer had their cannon ships, they should still have some firearms, which made a loud banging sound when fired and could greatly damage morale.
But he used the promise of grain to incite his subordinates, driving these rebels into a frenzied grain-grabbing mode. In that state, the psychological impact of the firearms would be significantly lessened.
As long as all his subordinates fought without fear of death, breaking through a mere wooden stockade would not be difficult.
"Bring out the large wooden planks we prepared earlier."
At Old Zhang Fei's command, the bandit soldiers brought out many thick wooden planks. These things were at least an inch and a half thick and very heavy. It was strenuous for a single bandit soldier to carry one plank alone, but they were excellent for blocking firearm bullets.
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