Chapter 700: Do You Understand What 'Taboo' Means?
Qingbei Lang led his troops northwest.
Soon, he spotted the approaching enemy.
It was a unit of roughly a thousand Ming forces, clad in standard-issue Ming cloth armor, charging towards them.
Qingbei Lang arrayed his subordinates, intending to have his soldiers shout a few boastful taunts to mock the presumptuous Ming forces. But before he could open his mouth, the enemy soldiers raised their Flintlock Rifles.
"Bang, bang, bang!"
They opened fire immediately!
No words, just action.
A swath of Qingbei Lang's men instantly fell.
What the hell? Was there no honor in war?
The rebel forces' arrows couldn't reach far, and the enemy's Flintlock Rifles had already opened fire. Their bows couldn't even touch the enemy, leaving them no choice but to charge forward.
In mere moments, the thousand Ming soldiers reloaded their Flintlock Rifles, raised them, and unleashed another volley of thunderous shots.
Qingbei Lang's side suffered heavy casualties once more.
He howled in rage, "Charge! Get through! Charge!"
After a short, desperate push, the distance wasn't as great. Qingbei Lang could vaguely discern the faces of the enemy. Then, his gaze snapped to one particular face among the enemy commanders.
Even though the face was covered in a thick beard, Qingbei Lang recognized him instantly: Wang Er!
The shock was so profound that Qingbei Lang was momentarily paralyzed, rendered speechless.
Impossible. There was no way Wang Er would ever defect to the Ming forces. No way at all.
Zijing Liang turned his head, glancing northwest. The incessant crackle of Flintlock Rifles filled the air. A strange sensation crept into his heart. Why were these thousand reinforcements from the northwest *also* relying on Flintlock Rifles?
While the Ming forces were slightly wealthier than the rebels, they weren't exactly rolling in riches.
How could every random reinforcement unit today be firing Flintlock Rifles with such earth-shattering intensity?
Just as he was pondering this, another scout ran up. "Boss," he reported, "A unit of Ming forces, about a thousand strong, has appeared directly to the west and is almost here."
Zijing Liang exclaimed, "What? Another thousand?"
Yunlishou's head popped up beside him. "Boss, I'll hold them back."
Zijing Liang nodded. "Good. Go quickly."
Yunlishou immediately led his men to meet the western threat. They collided head-on with the reinforcements Shi Jian had dispatched from Dragon Gate Ferry, and a dense, continuous rattle of Flintlock Rifle fire erupted.
Zijing Liang listened. To the west, too, Flintlock Rifles were booming without end?
What the devil was going on today? Every single unit of Ming forces was armed with Flintlock Rifles?
Before he could even voice his exasperation.
From the southwest, a sudden clamor arose, hundreds of voices roaring in unison: "Xing Honglang of Yongji is here!"
"Bang, bang, bang, bang!"
Flintlock Rifle fire erupted from the southwest as well, and the rebels in that direction immediately began screaming in agony.
Zijing Liang cursed, "Damn it, it's Xing Honglang, that rotten salt smuggler who defected to the Ming forces! You rotten bastard, you've come to fight me too?"
To the direct south, hundreds of voices suddenly roared, "Lao Nanfeng of Guyuan is here!"
And simultaneously, another wave of gunfire erupted.
Only then did the rebel forces realize they were being enveloped in a fan-shaped formation by numerous Flintlock Rifle units. From all directions, the Flintlock Rifle units fired relentlessly, steadily advancing as they shot.
Though the rebel forces numbered in the tens of thousands, they might withstand fifty Flintlock Rifles, but they couldn't withstand thousands.
A single volley from these Flintlock Rifles was enough to completely shatter the morale of their front lines.
Almost instantly, the morale of the rebel forces collapsed on several fronts simultaneously.
Qingbei Lang, Yunlishou, and the other leaders who had gone out to engage the enemy swiftly fled back in utter disarray.
All the leaders were panic-stricken.
Only Gegoufei, still blind in both eyes, roared, "Who is firing those Flintlock Rifles?"
"Boss, this is bad! They've broken! Our left flank has collapsed!"
"Boss, the right flank has collapsed!"
"Boss, the vanguard units besieging the White Pole Soldiers are all scattering!"
"Our main formation! The Ming forces are about to reach our main formation!"
Zijing Liang gasped, "Retreat! Quick, retreat!"
At this point, there was only one direction left to run: northeast.
Zijing Liang's main force immediately turned tail and fled.
But just as he started to run, a unit suddenly burst out from his diagonal front. The soldiers in this unit had fierce expressions; they clearly weren't the kind to be trifled with. And these men weren't using Flintlock Rifles.
They wielded melee cold weapons: swords, spears, blades, and halberds.
Oh! No, wait! Not *all* cold weapons.
In addition to their melee weapons, they were also armed with Hand Grenades.
Leading them was a general exuding the aura of a seasoned Ming commander: none other than Lao Nanfeng. "I've come today to take your heads," he bellowed, "to exchange them for military merits and some silver. Don't blame me for being ruthless!"
With that, he waved his hand, and a Hand Grenade soared into Zijing Liang's main force.
His detachment wasn't large, not even a thousand men.
Yet these several hundred men were all ferocious and volatile. All of them swung their arms, hurling hundreds of Hand Grenades. In an instant, Zijing Liang's main formation was shattered into utter disarray.
Then, Lao Nanfeng waved his hand. "Brothers, charge! Kill the bandit chiefs, achieve great merits, get promoted to high office, earn rewards of silver! I'll swagger through this glamorous world, and all the beautiful women and money will be ours!"
The several hundred fierce soldiers roared with laughter. "Military merits! Military merits!"
Lao Nanfeng declared, "I am vulgar and shallow!"
The fierce soldiers chanted, "Only love money and beautiful women!"
"Charge!"
The morale of this unit was exceptionally high, far surpassing that of the Flintlock Rifle units seen earlier. They were all reckless daredevils, their eyes gleamed with greed, willing to throw their lives away for military glory.
Zijing Liang saw this formation and his heart sank. "These are border army! Dammit, these are border army! Has Zhang Zongheng or Cao Wenzhao arrived?"
Yet, even Zhang Zongheng and Cao Wenzhao might not be as ferocious as Lao Nanfeng.
Because Lao Nanfeng had Hand Grenades!
His sudden flanking attack immediately put Zijing Liang in desperate straits.
Qingbei Lang, seeing that these men weren't using Flintlock Rifles and were focused on close-quarters combat, thought to rush in and put up a fight. But the moment he charged forward and swung his blade, Lao Nanfeng's saber came down, cleaving his neck. Blood gushed out a considerable distance.
Lao Nanfeng roared with laughter. "Got myself a bandit chief's head! Hahahahaha!"
A border army soldier pointed, "Brother Nanfeng, there's another one over there."
"That's Yunlishou!"
Lao Nanfeng snarled, "Damn it, who's audacious enough to call himself Yunlishou? Is he trying to impersonate the Heavenly Lord? Kill that son of a bitch!"
The Guyuan border army immediately charged towards Yunlishou.
This group tore through the chaotic rebel ranks, killing anyone who stood in their way. Not a single rebel dared to obstruct them, and in the blink of an eye, they were in front of Yunlishou.
Yunlishou was running for his life when he suddenly saw someone blocking his path. He roared in defiance and swung his saber at Lao Nanfeng.
Lao Nanfeng sidestepped, then grabbed Yunlishou by the neck. "Your damn name is far too arrogant!"
With that, he plunged his saber into Yunlishou's gut, pulled it out, plunged it in again, pulled it out, plunged it in again...
In moments, he had stabbed him dozens of times. He then tossed Yunlishou's corpse to the ground. "Next life," he growled, "don't choose such a name. Do you understand what 'taboo' means?"
Much later, he would learn that the Heavenly Lord didn't actually mind such things. He didn't care if others shared his name, nor did he mind if they wore the same clothes or ate the same food. The Heavenly Lord would never establish class segregation or seek to assert his superiority in such matters.
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