Meng Hu quickly noticed something new happening at the foot of the mountain.
Eight bizarre machines rolled out from the government camp below. Each one was wrapped in heavy armor, squat and ugly, crawling forward like steel beasts. When they reached the base of Zhougong Mountain, the machines stopped in perfect unison. With a series of mechanical clanks, they pivoted as one, swinging the eight massive cannons mounted at their rears until every muzzle pointed straight at the mountain.
Meng Hu stared, stunned. "What in the hell is that thing? And how is it even moving?"
Du Hu shook his head slowly. "No idea."
Meng Hu turned to him in disbelief. "Brother, you're the smart one. Every strange thing I don't understand, you explain it to me. And now even you don't know? Then we're really done for."
Du Hu spread his hands helplessly. "I may not know what those things are, but I do know this. They're set up far too far away. Way too far. And they're down at the foot of the mountain, shooting upward. Their cannonballs can't possibly reach us."
Meng Hu's eyes lit up. "They can't reach? Damn. I was hoping to order our cannons to blast them to pieces."
"No point," Du Hu said firmly. "They're out of range. Don't waste the ammunition."
The rebel artillerymen had already come to the same conclusion. The moment they saw the cannons being deployed, they began judging the distance by eye, using trees, ridges, and familiar landmarks. No matter how they measured it, the result was the same.
Too far.
Even firing downhill from their elevated position, their own cannons would struggle to reach that distance. Shooting uphill from below should have been outright impossible.
The rebels burst into mocking laughter.
"Firing cannons from that far away?"
"Are the government troops insane?"
"It's like trying to hit the moon with a rock!"
Yet the unease was not limited to the bandits.
Even Cao Wenzhao, Cao Bianjiao, and Gao Jie felt their brows tighten as they watched.
From that distance, it really did look impossible.
So why were the Xiaolangdi militia adjusting their cannons so seriously, so carefully, as if every degree and fraction of a degree mattered?
Everyone was confused.
Everyone except the artillerymen.
For the artillerymen of Gao Family Village, moments like this were rare. Truly rare. Maybe once in a lifetime. Every time the cannons were deployed, it felt like a festival. Like New Year's Day had arrived early, complete with fireworks.
Their excitement was impossible to contain.
"Brothers, time to work!"
"Hahaha, it's finally my turn to shine again!"
"I've trained for a whole year for this moment!"
"Raise the muzzle ten degrees. No, no, too much. Lower it one degree."
"Load ammunition!"
"Prepare to fire!"
"Fire!"
BOOM!
The first cannon roared.
The shell shot skyward in a long, arcing trajectory, screaming toward the distant summit where the rebel artillery was positioned.
Every eye followed it.
Then the shell outran sight itself, leaving only a faint streak in the sky.
CRASH!
The explosion erupted roughly thirty meters from the rebel artillery camp. The shell detonated violently, spraying fragments in all directions.
Trees shuddered as shards tore into trunks and branches, filling the mountaintop with a chaotic chorus of cracking wood and flying debris.
The rebels froze.
Although it missed, there was no denying it.
The shell had reached the mountaintop.
Silence followed, heavy and stunned.
"What kind of demonic cannon is that?"
"How can it shoot that far?"
"And the shell exploded into fragments!"
"That's impossible!"
Of course, none of them understood rifled artillery, or why it vastly outperformed their crude smoothbore cannons. They only knew what they saw.
And what they saw terrified them.
The rebel artillerymen suddenly realized the truth. One shot missing meant nothing. Two shots meant nothing. Three, four, five. Eventually, one of those shells would land right on top of them.
Panic spread through the battery.
Below, the Gao Family Village artillerymen were already making adjustments.
"Traverse half a degree to the left. Elevate half a degree."
"Ready."
"Fire!"
BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!
The remaining seven cannons fired almost simultaneously.
Shells streaked toward the mountaintop like falling stars.
The rebel artillerymen did not hesitate. They threw themselves flat onto the ground.
Explosions thundered across the summit. Shrapnel shells burst in rapid succession, tearing through the rebel ranks. Screams rang out as soldiers were cut down, blood splashing across rocks and earth.
"Still a little off," one artilleryman muttered cheerfully. "Didn't hit their guns directly."
"Fine tune again."
"Half a degree more to the left. Half a degree higher."
The Gao Family Village artillerymen were grinning ear to ear. They looked like children who had finally been allowed, after endless begging, to spend the whole night gaming at an internet café.
All the eagerness they had bottled up for a year poured out with every adjustment, every shot.
Morale +32%
Reload Speed +32%
Accuracy +32%
"Fire!"
BOOM BOOM BOOM!
The cannons roared again.
This time, fate was not kind to the rebels.
One shell landed squarely between two rebel cannons.
The explosion swallowed the position in fire and black smoke.
"Direct hit!"
Cheers erupted from the artillery line.
"We wiped out their artillery!"
Bai Yuan did not waste a single breath. He chopped his hand forward. "Advance."
The Gao Family Village Militia moved immediately.
With the rebel cannons destroyed, only arquebuses and repeating crossbows remained. But every one of those positions had already been mapped in detail by the reconnaissance hot air balloon.
From the day they were founded, the Gao Family Village Militia had trained in indirect fire. They knew the effective ranges of arquebuses and bows better than they knew their own hands.
They advanced with precision, stopping exactly at the distance where enemy fire could not reach them.
Then a voice rang out.
"Second Battalion Commander, bring out the small grenade mortars!"
Dozens of soldiers stepped forward, each carrying a thick, arm sized tube. With a heavy thud, they dropped to one knee and planted the small mortars firmly into the ground.
"Enemy arquebus squad hiding on the slope to the right, behind the crooked neck tree."
"Crossbowmen behind the big rock on the left."
"Adjust the angle."
One artilleryman surnamed Li raised his thumb, squinting as he measured the distance against the outline of a rock. Satisfied, he loaded a grenade into the tube with complete confidence.
"Fire!"
BOOM BOOM BOOM!
Grenades arced into the air.
A moment later, the targeted positions exploded into violent, blooming fireballs.
Rebel soldiers screamed as they were blasted out of cover, bodies tumbling down the slopes like broken dolls.
At the summit, Meng Hu and Du Hu stood frozen.
Only now did they fully understand the horror of the situation.
Their cannons had not fired.
Their arquebuses had not fired.
Their repeating crossbows had not fired.
They had not landed a single blow.
Bai Yuan turned to Cao Wenzhao and spread his hands calmly. "General Cao, the enemy's key defensive positions are already broken. However, our troops are not trained for close combat. Charging up the mountain and fighting blade to blade is not our strength. The rest is up to you."
Cao Wenzhao threw his head back and laughed loudly. "Hahaha. From here on, leave it to the Guanning Iron Cavalry."
He looked at Cao Bianjiao.
Without a word, Cao Bianjiao drew his long spear. He let out a furious roar and charged uphill, leading the way. More than two thousand Guanning Iron Cavalry surged after him like a steel tide.
With their defenses shattered, the rebel arquebusiers and crossbowmen could only fire scattered, ineffective shots. Shields rose, arrows bounced away, and the Iron Cavalry stormed up the slope without slowing.
What followed was pure slaughter.
In close combat, the Guanning Iron Cavalry could crush an enemy ten times their number.
Within moments, the rebels broke. They fled in chaos, screaming and scrambling down the mountainside, utterly incapable of holding Zhougong Mountain.