nucmednet Chapter 452 The Battle of Qiuyu Mountain (4)
Chapter 452 The Battle of Qiuyu Mountain (4)
On the mountainside, Zuo Wuwei put down his binoculars and shook his head: "This distance won't work. It's too short to directly engage the enemy commander, and too long to engage the attacking troops."
Zuo Wuwei felt that the distance of the artillery fire was somewhat awkward. It was too difficult to hit the enemy commander, who was nearly 2000 meters away, while the range was too great to hit the charging refugees. It could only hit the rear half of the troops, which was equivalent to crippling half of its capabilities.
After being stunned by the artillery shells, the refugees' excitement vanished without a trace, and they hesitated to move forward. Sun Kewang steadied himself and shouted, "The soldiers' cannons take a long time to fire one shot. Don't be afraid, everyone keep charging!"
The refugees remembered the reward of fifty taels for capturing a cannon, and seeing that no more cannons were fired on the opposite mountainside, they continued to rush forward with a sense of luck.
Watching the refugee column, which briefly panicked before continuing its charge, Zuo Wuwei pondered for a moment. Increasing the firing range was impractical. If he raised the firing angle, the altitude would make it like firing into the air, impossible to aim, and only heaven knew where the shells would end up. Increasing the propellant charge, on the other hand, could cause a barrel explosion, which would be counterproductive. So, the only solution was to shorten the firing range.
However, the muzzle of the field gun was already at a horizontal position and could not be lowered further; otherwise, the shell would roll out with the muzzle pointing downwards. The only solution was to reduce the amount of propellant used. Zuo Wuwei ordered, "Pierce the propellant pack and pour out 20% of the gunpowder." The Qionghai Navy used fixed-load ammunition for both bullets and shells. The propellant was pre-packaged in cloth and tied to the tail of the shell, with a wooden disc-shaped tray separating the propellant pack from the shell. To reduce the amount of propellant used, the only option was to puncture the propellant pack and pour out a little.
After reducing the amount of propellant, the artillerymen quickly loaded the shells and prepared for the second round of firing.
Zuo Wuwei ordered: "All artillery battalions, fire a salvo!"
"Boom boom boom," the deafening sound of artillery fire rang out again. The artillery battalion's 30 field guns fired almost simultaneously, unleashing their full firepower. A dense cloud of solid shot, accompanied by the whistling sound of tearing through the air, flew towards the charging refugees.
Having learned their lesson from the bloody experience, everyone from Sun Kewang to the refugee soldiers knew that these iron balls could hit them, and that their power surpassed that of any weapon they knew. They also did not expect that the cannons could fire again in such a short time, and they watched in panic as the iron balls gradually lowered their flight path and flew towards them.
Sun Kewang shouted loudly: "Go forward! The cannons should fire from a distance, not close. The closer you are to the officers and soldiers, the safer you will be!"
His common sense was correct, but the speed of the shells was much faster than human reaction time. Before his order could be relayed, dozens of solid shot bullets pierced into the crowd like falling meteors.
"Bang! Bang! Bang!" The sounds of metal clashing against the ground and flesh echoed repeatedly as disaster struck the charging refugees: solid shot, imbued with immense kinetic energy, tore through everything in its path without resistance, be it flesh and blood or swords. Bloodied limbs and chunks of flesh, along with deformed weapons, flew through the air, the tracks shoveled by the shells a bloody mess, and those refugees who narrowly escaped death were splattered with blood and brains. The shells bounced and struck the ground like skipping stones, mercilessly reaping lives, the column of thousands almost completely pierced through from beginning to end.
Sun Kewang, who was directing operations from the rear, was lucky. He wasn't directly hit by the cannonballs, but a bouncing shell broke the leg of his horse and threw him heavily to the ground, breaking several ribs on the spot. He survived, though.
After the last shell bounced four times and pierced through dozens of people, it rolled a few meters before coming to a stop, and the battlefield where the frontal charge was taking place became deathly silent.
Sun Kewang, enduring the excruciating pain in his chest, struggled to sit up. His vision blurred, and he nearly fainted. This round of shelling had swept away a large portion of the charging troops; mutilated corpses lay everywhere, blood flowed like rivers, and even nearby tree branches were adorned with severed limbs. The surviving refugees were either wounded or paralyzed with fear, completely losing the will to continue their attack.
Zhang Xianzhong, standing at the rear, was completely stunned. Since he raised his army in Shaanxi, he had fought countless battles, large and small, against government troops, and had never witnessed such a scene. If the government troops besieging them all had such firepower, even if he, the Eighth King, had ten lives, it wouldn't be enough.
After a long while, he finally realized what was happening. He stood up on his horse in a panic and shouted, "Quickly send word to Xiuhe on both sides to withdraw. My sons can't all be trapped inside!"
Sun Kewang, who was facing forward, fell to the ground and did not get up. Zhang Xianzhong thought he was dead. These four adopted sons were his right-hand men and could not be sacrificed like this. If one of them died, at least the lives of the others had to be saved.
However, the order came too late. After Sun Kewang was crippled by a round of shelling, Liu Xiu and Ai Neng had already moved to the foot of the mountain from the left and right sides and entered the firing range of the Qionghai Navy.
The roads on both sides were rugged and blocked by bushes. Liu Xiu and Ai Neng each led two thousand men and it took them a lot of effort to reach the foot of the mountain. Before they could launch an attack, the second round of artillery fire began from the front. They watched helplessly as Sun Kewang's troops fell like crops blown by a strong wind, decimating them in one fell swoop.
This shocking scene terrified the two men, both renowned for their bravery. They were fearless in battle, but this overwhelming storm of metal shattered their confidence—how could flesh and blood possibly withstand an opponent possessing near-divine power? For a moment, both were caught in a dilemma: continue the attack or retreat?
However, the Qionghai Army gave them no time to consider. There was a battalion on each side of Qiuyu Mountain, located at the foot of the mountain, and an artillery company in front of the formation, all eagerly awaiting the arrival of their opponents. As soon as the refugees entered the range of the mountain guns, the artillery company commander gave the order, and the 12 mountain guns roared joyfully, firing 6-pound solid shot at the enemy.
The mountain guns were certainly not as powerful as the field guns, but they were just as ruthless when it came to reaping lives. The bowl-sized shells flew through the crowd, accompanied by screams of agony. The shells smashed one head after another and pierced one body after another. The two thousand-strong force was quickly routed.
As Liu Xiu and Ai Neng were caught in a dilemma, the sound of an angry gong rang out in the army. The two were relieved and took the lead in retreating. The rest of the people followed suit and ran back in a hurry. In the blink of an eye, they had run far away, much faster than when they came.
The refugees retreated like a tide, leaving behind only a pile of corpses lying haphazardly on the ground.
In less than half an hour, Zhang Xianzhong's army's fierce offensive failed miserably, and completely, without any chance of resistance.