Chapter Eighteen: Open Fire and Crush-The Last Crown Prince of the Ming Dynasty(A few words, full of meaning.)

This was a troop that had undergone rigorous training for quite some time. Inspired by Zhu Cilang, they possessed their own conviction and had begun to forge a true military spirit.

Although they were few in number—only about four hundred men—and their formation appeared thin, as if a single gust of wind could shatter it, the moment they appeared on the battlefield, Li Yan’s heart sank. A sense of foreboding fermented and spread to every corner of his soul.

Zhu Cilang watched as the four hundred men ascended the small hill and smiled at Old Seventeen. "Old Seventeen, Liu Zeqing has always wanted to know how many of those formidable spearmen we have. Truth be told, I didn't lie to him; there are only a hundred or so. Only our personal guards—those hundred-plus men—know how to use the spears properly. Therefore, the true core of our Linqing Battalion's combat strength is actually..."

As Zhu Cilang spoke, Li Yan, who was watching from afar, felt his pupils contract. His premonition had been realized. On the small hill, over a hundred Lumni muskets were raised high.

"It’s the Lumni muskets," Zhu Cilang said with a smile, looking at Liu Sheng, who was saluting him nearby. "Liu Sheng, didn't you always claim that when it came to real combat, you infantrymen were better at winning battles than the cavalry? In this fight, I shall merely watch; you take command!"

Zhu Cilang turned his head away, his gaze fixed on the rebel vanguard now within a hundred paces.

Liu Sheng accepted the order solemnly, struggling to suppress the excitement on his face. "This subordinate obeys!"

"First rank, first platoon, stand by!"

"Second rank, second platoon, prepare your matchlocks!"

"Third rank, third platoon, prime your pans!"

...

At this moment, Li Yan could clearly see over a hundred dark musket barrels aimed in his direction. The distance had closed to under a hundred paces, yet not a single musketeer fired prematurely. Such unusual discipline could only prove that this was a formidable force—a company of musketeers far superior to any imperial troops Li Yan had ever encountered before.

*Should I order them to slow their charge and spread out the formation?*

Just as this thought crossed Li Yan’s mind, the lead rebels reached eighty paces from the government troops. Liu Sheng’s voice rang out: "First rank, fire!"

*Bang, bang, bang...*

Flashes of fire erupted, and over a hundred lead balls, traveling at two hundred and forty meters per second, left the barrels. In an instant, they tore into the dense crowd. The lead slugs pierced through iron armor, shattered skin, and burrowed into flesh, kicking up a mist of blood.

The rebel formation was far too dense—men were packed shoulder to shoulder. Despite a few stray shots, as the fire flashed and smoke rose, the rebels in the front rank shuddered in unison before collapsing in a heap.

As that wave of rebel soldiers fell, another cold, stern voice commanded:

"First rank, first platoon, fall back, pour powder, reload... stand by!"

"Second rank, second platoon, advance to the front, fire and stand by!"

"Third rank, third platoon, advance to the second rank, prepare your matchlocks!"

...

"Fire!"

*Bang, bang, bang...*

Another hundred lead balls whistled out. The front of the rebel formation shuddered and then buckled.

"Fire!"

*Bang, bang, bang...*

Another volley of fire. Endless smoke rose, as if the place had become a gateway to hell.

Li Yan’s heart was gripped by dread. He roared, "Charge! Charge! They are less than fifty paces away! Rush them, these musketeers are out of ammunition!"

Li Yan’s roar took effect. Under such heavy fire, commanders like Qin Daluo had already lost over a hundred men. This meant that before the melee had even begun, a tenth of their force had been wiped out. How could commanders who viewed their soldiers as private property not be driven to fury?

Seeing they were only forty paces away, the last vestige of their courage ignited. "Charge! Charge! They have no bullets left!"

"Risk it! Close in for hand-to-hand combat; these musketeers are no match for us!"

"Kill them!"

"Nearly three thousand men... what a formidable display," Zhu Cilang remarked, looking toward his side.

Liu Quan bowed. "My Lord, the artillery has switched to canister shot and is standing by."

Zhu Cilang nodded. "Open fire."

There were ten cannons in total. Although seven were merely small 36mm guns and only three were 18-pounder 132mm cannons, when fired at point-blank range...

Ten canister rounds were loaded into the muzzles, aimed squarely at the swarming rebels.

Qin Daluo suddenly noticed the ten cannons twenty paces away, their muzzles leveled at him. He lost the ability to think. A moment later, he was knocked to the ground by a collision.

*Boom, boom, boom...*

*Boom...*

Ten flashes of fire erupted.

The canister shots sprayed out, each containing dozens of jagged iron nails, ceramic shards, and countless sharp, heavy stones, which, propelled by high kinetic energy, easily pierced through heavy armor and deep into flesh.

Qin Daluo suddenly felt his senses sharpened to an unprecedented degree. He felt a flash of fire erupt toward him, and then he was sprayed with a torrent of blood—mixed with bits of white and green. The white was brain matter, the green was torn muscle. When Qin Daluo looked up, he saw a torso ripped in half, blood spurting from the ruined frame.

At the sight, Qin Daluo collapsed. This time, he fainted from terror.

As he drifted into unconsciousness, Zhu Cilang struck a wooden mallet against a drum.

"Thump, thump, thump, thump..."

Old Seventeen recalled the order Zhu Cilang had just given: "Total assault! Attack! Attack!"

Old Seventeen charged forward, leading the way. A hundred brave warriors galloped toward the still-dense mass of charging rebels.

At the same time, Liu Sheng shouted, "All units, rapid fire! Once finished, draw your blades and charge!"

*Bang, bang, bang...*

...

"Victory!"

After the final volley, over four hundred Linqing Battalion soldiers drew their waist blades and charged with a deafening roar.

Li Yan watched this scene, trembling slightly, and slowly closed his eyes.

Among the three thousand rebels, someone threw down their sword and frantically tore off their armor. "Our commander is dead! Run!"

"No more fighting... no more fighting..."

"Help! Run for your lives!"

"I’m done! Spare me, I only want to live..."