Chapter 740: Right Turn! Open Fire!
The Wushen Tribe's cavalry thundered out, a menacing, seemingly invincible force.
They held no fear of infantry, particularly this unit, which appeared completely unprepared, its attention entirely fixed on the ancient fortress before them.
A sudden charge from the flank like this was guaranteed to catch their opponents completely off guard.
The moment they burst forth, Luo Xi was utterly terrified.
"Mongol cavalry!" Luo Xi shrieked, his voice raw. "It's the Mongol cavalry! We're doomed, utterly doomed!"
"Finished? What's finished?" Shi Jian chuckled. "We've known they were here the whole time."
Shi Jian chuckled, then raised a hand and called out, "Right turn!"
His thousand soldiers, for their part, seemed utterly unfazed by the sudden appearance of the Mongol cavalry. Every man appeared to have been ready for this moment.
With a synchronized movement, they all turned right, shifting their formation from facing Wangjia Fork fortress to confronting the Mongol cavalry charging toward them.
Shi Jian commanded, "Tiered volley fire! Then, open fire at will!"
At the same moment, Zheng Gouzi bellowed, "Tiered volley fire! Then, open fire at will!"
The various mid- and low-ranking officers within the militia echoed in unison, "Tiered volley fire! Then, open fire at will!"
Luo Xi discovered, to his astonishment, that these soldiers had been prepared all along.
What the hell? When did they get ready? I didn't see them confer, nor did any scouts return with a report. How did they know the Mongol cavalry was there? When were the orders to prepare for a volley passed down?
Luo Xi had no way of knowing that the Heavenly Lord, observing from the reconnaissance hot air balloon high above, had long since spotted the Mongol cavalry. The deity had then secretly, like a ripple spreading through water, co-sensed the information to the 'Cotton Thread Heavenly Lords' embedded in the militia soldiers' chest armor, relaying commands in a quiet tone that only a few nearby could discern.
He understood that musket-armed infantry were slow, lacking any capacity for charge or pursuit. If the Mongol riders had detected them too early, they would never have attacked, simply galloping away. The militia, even if they ran until their legs gave out, would never catch them.
That's why Li Daoxuan had long since devised a strategic tactic: "pretend ignorance of the Mongols' presence, lure them into a charge, then mow them down with gunfire."
Bolstered by the Heavenly Lord's blessing, the militia soldiers were brimming with confidence. Each man played his part with theatrical skill, feigning complete ignorance of the Mongols. They all pretended to focus on the Wangjia Fork fortress ahead, seemingly engrossed in the artillery barrage.
Yet, beneath their facade, they secretly slid cartridges into their rifle chambers.
Furthermore, their positions had been deliberately chosen to face the Mongols' hidden approach, forming a staggered, well-ordered battle line perfectly suited for firing.
The instant the Mongol cavalry burst from cover, they saw the Ming forces ahead turn in perfect unison, their gaze fixed upon them.
Then, as one, they raised their muskets...
"Fire!"
A thunderous volley erupted!
The dense crackle of musket fire instantly filled the air.
The sandstorms of northern Shaanxi were notoriously fierce, making it incredibly difficult to fire traditional matchlock muskets. The instant the pan was opened, the priming powder would be swept away by the wind, rendering the weapon useless. On top of that, their rate of fire was agonizingly slow; even if a soldier managed to get off one shot, there would be no time for a second.
This was why the Mongol cavalry held little fear for soldiers armed with such antiquated firearms!
Now, however, they knew they were terribly, fatally wrong.
The Ming unit before them clearly didn't suffer from the problem of lost priming powder. Astonishingly, every single one of their muskets could fire instantly, with a swift, decisive crack.
What's more, their effective range far surpassed that of conventional matchlocks.
The Mongol riders still believed they were safely out of range, only to see a swath of their front-line cavalry instantly cut down.
Those behind, having miraculously escaped the initial volley, quickly roared, "While they reload! Charge!"
In the span of that one shouted sentence, the Chassepot riflemen smoothly operated their weapons. With a practiced pull, the breech *snicked* open, a flick of the wrist dislodged the meager paper scraps and residue from the spent cartridge, and then, with another crisp *snick*, a fresh paper cartridge was inserted.
Their muskets were raised once more.
Another thunderous volley!
Another round of shots, and another swathe of Mongol cavalry instantly crumpled.
The Mongol riders were utterly stunned!
What kind of demonic muskets were these, firing so rapidly?
Before, Ming armies only managed a single volley before we closed in, cutting them down one by one like headless chickens.
But this Ming army, by all the spirits! We'd barely begun our charge, and they'd already unleashed two volleys?
Surely a third couldn't be coming now...
A third volley erupted!
The sharp cracks of gunfire rang out!
Another large contingent of Mongol riders tumbled from their saddles.
With that third volley alone, three thousand bullets had been expended.
In mere moments, three to four hundred Mongol warriors had fallen.
The Wushen Tribe could not possibly absorb such a devastating blow. Their tribe was not large to begin with, and to lose two or three hundred young, strong men in a single breath—it was nothing short of a catastrophe, a prelude to their annihilation.
And this colossal disaster had unfolded in a mere dozen breaths.
The Wushen Tribe's leader's eyes burned red. "Retreat! Quick, retreat! We cannot charge any further!"
The fourth volley exploded!
The fourth round of shots rang out...
Almost another hundred riders toppled from their horses.
The Wushen chief knew then: their tribe was finished!
"Retreat! Quick, retreat!"
The surviving cavalry swiftly reined in their mounts and galloped wildly, fleeing northward without a single glance back.
"Tch! Still too many escaped," the 'Cotton Thread Heavenly Lord' grumbled softly. "Impossible to completely eradicate them. The flaw of musket-armed infantry is their slowness, alas, they can't pursue cavalry."
Brigadier-General Luo Xi snapped out of his bewildered stupor, a broad grin spreading across his face. "The Wushen Tribe is finished! Finished, hahahaha, they're utterly finished! In this engagement, they've lost four or five hundred able-bodied men. Their tribe is ruined, hahahaha! They're bound to be absorbed by other tribes, hahahaha!"
Shi Jian rolled his eyes at him. "What's so interesting about them being absorbed by other tribes? It's only interesting if *our* Great Ming absorbs them."
Luo Xi blinked. "Huh? Why would we absorb the Mongols?"
Shi Jian merely shrugged. "You wouldn't understand."
Shi Jian turned back, pointing a finger towards Wangjia Fork. "Alright, the Mongol soldiers are dealt with. We continue our assault on the fortress. Finishing off these rebels is the true priority."
The musket-armed soldiers chuckled, then uniformly turned back, their gaze once more fixed on Wangjia Fork fortress.
Luo Xi was astonished to realize the incredible discipline of this army. So many Mongol warriors lay dead to their right, yet not a single soldier rushed forward to claim spoils, or sever heads or ears.
They seemed utterly indifferent to both loot and military achievements!
Their only focus was the meticulous execution of their commander's orders.
Such an army was a truly invaluable sight.
Just then, from within Wangjia Fork fortress in the distance, a burly, coarse-looking man emerged. He dashed forward a few paces, both hands gripping a saber held high above his head, then knelt on the open ground outside the fortress walls. He remained there, motionless, in that same supplicant posture.
Luo Xi gasped. "What? That's Wang Chenggong! Does that gesture mean he's surrendering?"
From the fortress behind Wang Chenggong, the rebels' cries rang out clearly: "We surrender! No more fighting, no more fighting! We surrender!"
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