Ming Dynasty: Summoning game players at the beginning

Chapter 252: How to Lose When a Dragon Rids on Your Face (Two Chapters in One)

In the early morning, Li Mu slept until he woke up naturally. Although the sleep time was not long enough, he felt that the quality of sleep was better and more comfortable than before.

Li Mu opened the tent curtain and took a few steps. The dry cold wind whistled past, and the resurrection battle flag fluttered in the wind, making a clean and neat crackling sound.

It was the hour of the blues, the sky above seemed covered with a blue curtain, the soldiers had just woken up from their sleep, and the scouts who had been on guard duty and out on patrol at night were returning one after another.

Almost all the highly motivated players have logged into the "game" and have started moving around the camp.

Fortunately, there has been no winter snow in the past few days, and the ground around is still dry and cold.

Li Mu turned around and returned to the tent, activated the system to unlock the players summoned with 90,000 life points, and kept the remaining 30,000 life points for emergency use.

As for the military props that come with summoning players, they have long been bought out by new and old players.

As time passed, new players armed with simple weapons crawled out of the ground one after another, like flesh and blood puppets summoned by the necromancer.

Not until all three thousand new players stepped out of the command tent did Li Mu follow suit.

The morning sun hangs horizontally below the horizon and gradually moves upwards. The orange-red morning sun shines brightly, dyeing the blue and white sky at the end of the vision red. The brilliant light radiating from the earth emits a hazy red light through the clouds, as if covering this quiet world with a layer of fiery red veil.

The reason why Li Mu did not summon the players before the expedition was, firstly, to save the rations for three thousand people for several days, and secondly, to save the three thousand newcomers from the boredom of marching for several days.

Li Mu then used the excuse of being worried about the food supply route to dispatch a thousand old players, a thousand new players, and a thousand new players, a total of three thousand people, to retreat to the rear to defend the food supply route.

The total number of people on the front lines remains unchanged, including 8,000 new and old players, but the number of soldiers guarding food in the rear has increased to 18,000.

As for the extra soldiers, the friendly forces would simply think that they were civilians who had come ashore to transport grain and were being given weapons.

The loud horn sounded over the enemy and the barracks suddenly became noisy. The veterans slept soundly last night, but the new recruits were anxious and nervous for half the night and had no energy for the whole day.

The fireman got up half an hour early to prepare breakfast for everyone. In this winter when a war is about to happen, a bowl of hot tropical soup for breakfast can always boost the morale of the soldiers.

After breakfast, all the soldiers checked their weapons and equipment: their muskets, ammunition bags, crossbows, quivers, sideknives, spare flintlocks, ration bags, and bamboo tubes filled with boiled water.

The assembly drums beat and the soldiers said goodbye to each other.

"Old Zhou, live well. Your wife and children are waiting for you to come back..."

"That's exactly what I want to say. I don't want to see you lying on the ground when I collect the bodies after the war."

"Zhu Zi, after this battle, go to Hui Er's house and ask for marriage!"

"it is good!"

These friends who said goodbye before the battle, like other comrades, encouraged each other at the moment of parting and immediately went to their respective positions.

The overall tactics for the decisive battle have been discussed by a group of generals.

Li Mu divided the 50,000 troops that would be used in direct combat into ten units, each commanded by the general with the largest number of troops: Hu Dawei, Yang Guozhu, Li Fuming, Hou Guoan... Zhang Xianzhong, He Lusi, Li Wu, Ye Niu...

Each non-player combat unit has dozens of player supervisory generals.

On the surface, Li Mu had to use "special flag language" that only the Black Flag Battalion could understand, but in fact, Li Mu personally used the command voice to notify each unit of the combat orders, and even micro-managed the thousand-man team.

More than ten artillery pieces were placed behind the central army, concentrating their firepower to bombard the enemy's flank lines surrounding the garrison. The power of the artillery shells would have an unimaginable impact on the enemy's flanks, thereby achieving the goal of weakening the enemy's lines.

Nor would they enter Dujiatun and kill their own people because of a mistake.

Then they attacked from both sides to half-encircle the enemy, joined forces with the remaining Western Army in the garrison, and wiped out all the enemies in the middle of the south side.

Even if the enemy's reserve troops on the north side still have combat capability and are nested to encircle the southern army, Li Mu can order the 18,000 reserve troops left behind to guard the grain route to surround them again, creating a multi-layer sandwich.

"go ahead!"

The soldiers straightened their weapons, cheered up, and marched in an orderly manner to the preset positions several miles away under the command of war drums and suona.

The moving position of tens of thousands of infantry and cavalry spanned several miles from east to west, like a giant crab crawling vertically, and the cold black soil splashed backwards as the soles of their feet rubbed against the ground.

Li Mu ordered the army to stop until it came within the range of the artillery.

False flags were waved in the formation, and the "megaphones" conveyed the orders to the middle and upper-level generals of each unit.

The suona and the war drums each played twice quickly, and tens of thousands of soldiers stopped one after another. They inserted wooden stakes pointing outwards on the flanks and rear to prevent sneak attacks by the enemy cavalry.

The Black Flag Battalion and the players' gunners each stabilized their artillery, and the ammunition boxes were placed in a safe location as required.

Li Mu came to a temporary mound of earth several feet high and placed the monocular telescope on the shoulder of a deputy general of the Black Flag.

The Eight Banners soldiers lined up south of the garrison had no intention of actively engaging in an attack - Li Mu had already determined through a day's observation that the enemy had no artillery.

As the report that the artillery had been loaded penetrated his head, Li Mu waved his hands at the air.

"Fire." His voice was as calm as water when he gave the order. Suddenly, two whistles came from the rear position.

……

Huang Taiji immediately locked onto the white smoke coming out of the enemy formation.

The two shells came fast and fiercely, breaking straight into the Eight Banners' flank line and blasting out two fleeting clouds of blood mist.

This insignificant casualties did not cause Huang Taiji to be emotionally unstable.

Once the battle begins, no matter how precious the Eight Banners are, they are just numbers needed to win the decisive battle.

As the commander-in-chief of the entire army, his heart had long been as hard as a rock, and enduring the bombardment was the price he paid for not bringing any artillery and having to take a detour of hundreds of miles.

But he wasn't just stupid enough to take a beating.

After the enemy completed the first round of artillery calibration, another wave of white smoke appeared behind the Ming army formation, and more than ten artillery shells rose into the air, leaving a crescent-shaped black mark in the air.

The moment the flagmen saw the white smoke coming from the enemy camp, they rushed into the nearby trenches.

Huang Taiji followed the trails, watching more than ten shells fall. Only a few of them landed on the infantry lines on the flanks that could not squeeze into the trenches, throwing up light blood mist, as if broken arms and limbs were flying in the air.

Huang Taiji smiled proudly, and his weak body seemed to be injected with vitality, and he felt much better.

The "bullet-proof" trench he dug in imitation of the Beiwei Army did not disappoint him.

Most solid bullets could only bounce on the ground, and only a very small number of "lucky bullets" penetrated into the flank trenches, like knocking over bowling pins, plowing out a bloody mist on the ground.

The only drawback of this tactic is that it cannot deal with enemy infantry.

The firepower network formed by bird guns and bows and crossbows could not stop the enemy's charging column. The defeated soldiers in the garrison might also rush out to join forces with the outsiders.

Fortunately, the morale of the garrison was almost destroyed, and the enemy soldiers outside did not dare to advance under the risk of their own artillery shells.

As long as they can hold out until the enemy's artillery shells run out, his Qing warriors can engage in fair hand-to-hand combat with the enemy.

However, Huang Taiji's joy lasted only for a while. When the enemy artillery paused for two rounds, he heard a series of sharp whistling sounds, and more than ten shells hit the two wings of the flag soldiers.

Some "solid bullets" hit the ground and bounced up, exploding before they even hit the ground. The invisible iron bullets were thrown along with the grenades, raising a cloud of blood mist.

Huang Taiji immediately exclaimed that this was a "reinforced shrapnel bomb", which was far more powerful than the "mortar" encountered in the decisive battle of Xiongyue Station.

Although the trench formation had reduced most of the damage from the artillery fire, and the number of casualties caused by the "shrapnel shells" was not as large as that caused by solid bullets on the flat ground, these losses were not expected by Huang Taiji from the beginning.

He felt quite disappointed, as if he had used a secret technique that he had treasured for a long time, only to find that the other party had already prepared for it.

Who was the commander-in-chief of the Ming army, Li Mu, Zhang Xianzhong, or some veteran general who had fought for many years?
He was able to adjust his fighting style so quickly according to the changes on the battlefield, and neutralized his moves in just a moment.

Damn it, the trench formation now lost its original function, and he could only withdraw the troops on the left and right wings to the north and south sides.

The enemies on the south and north sides either cannot attack or are afraid of accidentally hurting the friendly forces in Dujiatun, and the left and right wings surrounding Dujiatun will also become weak.

and many more!

Years of experience in fighting had become a reflex instinct at this moment. Huang Taiji only needed to use his brain a little to see through the enemy's intentions - the enemy wanted to weaken the left and right wings of the Eight Banners so that they could send heavy troops to encircle and attack them, and rescue the friendly troops in the garrison at the same time, killing two birds with one stone.

snort!
Huang Taiji thought that the enemy wanted to encircle the left and right wings, but he couldn't let them do so.

He ordered 25,000 soldiers to attack the enemy's main camp from the center. If they could successfully break through the enemy, it would be great. Even if they failed and had to retreat, they could still lure the enemy into going deeper.

At that time, he would send infantry and cavalry to encircle the enemy from both sides, cut off their retreat and surround them. Then, this Ming army reinforcement would become a turtle in a jar, just like the defeated soldiers in the garrison, and he would slaughter them at any time.

It was not until the enemy artillery fired several rounds, probably because it had cooled down from overheating, that Huang Taiji ordered his men to blow the attack horn, and more than 20,000 troops walked out of the camp and climbed out of the trenches.

Seeing the enemy sending troops to attack, Li Mu immediately sent out "two units" plus 4,000 players to fight.

The Ming army marched out of the battle formation and stopped one and a half miles away from the enemy.

"The musketeers continue to advance two hundred paces."

Li Mu's micro-control voice command was directly transmitted to the three captains of the musket team. The moment the order was issued, the 1,200 musket-wielding players who went into battle seemed to be struck by lightning and shook violently.

The sounds of war drums and suonas rang in their ears, and twelve hundred people slowly moved towards the north, gradually distancing themselves from their teammates behind them.

They seemed to have stepped into a desperate situation where they were isolated and helpless, with only empty dry grass and black mud all around them.

As the three captains shouted "Stop" one after another, all the players stopped one after another, and then consciously took small steps to align with their brothers, like college monks who had undergone military training for several months.

Twelve hundred men were divided into two rows, the first row holding rifled flintlocks and kneeling on one knee, and the second row holding heavy matchlock racks.

"Load the ammunition!" The three musket captains gave orders, and everyone performed the skillful loading movements one after another.

The three captains stared at the relative distance of the enemy and kept warning their brothers loudly, "Hold on! Hold on..."

The friendly forces in the rear were also advancing slowly, passing over the left and right wings of the musketeers.

Seeing that the Ming army was about to fire their bird guns, the bannermen hurriedly slowed down their pace - it was no longer a secret among the Qing soldiers that the Beiwei army's bird guns could fire at a range of two or three hundred steps.

The Qing soldiers brandished their swords and ordered the captured Han soldiers and Koreans to speed up their pace.

The flag bearers only gave the prisoners a shield, and anyone who stopped or turned back in panic would be chopped down with a knife.

Suddenly, bursts of white smoke came out from the Ming army line in front, and the sound of gunfire like popping beans continued. A whole row of prisoners and baoyi were constantly hit, and the screams around them gradually increased.

Finally, after a series of extraordinary shootings, a Korean soldier could no longer bear the fear and fled backwards roaring, but was stabbed in the back by the officer next to him and fell down with horror on his face.

"Anyone who retreats will be killed! Charge forward! Kill the bastards!"

Tang Gudai raised his knife and roared. The captives and bannermen who were on the verge of collapse had to muster up the courage to charge forward, one leading ten, a hundred leading a thousand, and even the bannermen and bannermen from other fronts who were not ordered to charge forward were also dragged into the charge.

In an instant, tens of thousands of people rushed over in a crescent-shaped arc like a hornet's nest that had been blown away. In comparison, the musketeers who were ready for battle looked like stubborn rocks in a flooded stream.

The musket player was neither impatient nor anxious, loading the ammunition in an orderly manner and emitting bursts of white smoke freely.

The bullets hit the shields and armor with a crisp clanging sound. The Qing soldiers who were hit fell down with a groan, and were trampled by the friendly troops who arrived later.

Just as the enemy entered within a hundred steps, the musket commander quickly ordered to stop firing. From behind came the roars of the infantry captain and even Ming army generals such as Yang Guozhu.

"Formation!"

"Shield wall!"

"Fire arrows!"

The players in the front row and the Ming army held their shields flat, while the players in the back row stretched out their spears and halberds. The javelins thrown from the air pierced their shields, making a dull clanging sound.

"Ahhhhhhhhhh!" the Qing soldiers rushed over roaring.

"Kill!" Huang Zilong held the shield firmly to open a gap, and raised the spear high above his head in his right hand. He looked directly into the eyes of the Qing soldiers who were coming towards him. He could even smell the stench from the other side's roar.

He thrust his lance with all his might, hitting the enemy soldier right in the chest and abdomen. The lance behind him followed closely behind, piercing the enemy's throat with great speed, and blood splattered everywhere.

He drew back his lance and held up his shield again, returning to the absolute defensive state of holding the shield, causing the Qing soldier who came to fill in the position to miss his attack.

The Qing soldiers armed with knives fought hard, and the enemy soldiers coming towards them rushed towards the shield wall of the vanguard soldiers like a ferocious pack of wolves, making a clanging sound.

The player held the shield, motionless as a mountain, and thrust out with the spear while muttering.

The Qing soldiers either chopped or blocked, trying their best to hit the player's shield, and then were pierced into the soft abdomen by the sharp lances.

"Kill the Tartars! Kill!"

Huang Zilong tightly grasped the shield pierced with three arrows and thrust out the lance in his right hand with all his might. A muffled sound was heard, blood spurted out, and the delayed feeling of the spear tip entering the flesh gave his arm a real offensive feedback.

The lance pierced a person's eyes like chopsticks piercing the sausage on the table.

Huang Zilong exerted force from his waist and quickly pulled back the blood-stained lance, pulling out the enemy's bloody lens and splashing it onto his shield.

A scimitar slashed through the shield, only to be deflected with a clang by Huang Zilong's arm armor. Huang Zilong took advantage of the situation and lunged forward, stabbing the enemy in the side with his spear and sword.

Stab and pull back, this complete combat action brings him the supreme enjoyment of killing the enemy. The enemy's screams and cries echoing in his ears are the best reward for this difficult decisive battle.

The roar of flintlock rifles exploded in his ears from time to time, and thick smoke filled his eyes, making Huang Zilong's ears and nose feel like they were being cut by a knife.

"Kill!" The brothers in the rear of the phalanx threw their javelins together. The javelins fell from the sky and pierced into the pile of Qing soldiers, causing screams and wails.

Through the gaps in the shield wall, Huang Zilong saw the enemy, pierced by a javelin in the shoulder, stagger back a few steps, then fall to the ground with his head tilted back and be swallowed by the feet of other Qing soldiers.

The ferocious Qing soldiers around him kept advancing. He stabbed out his rifle lance frantically, pulled it back, stabbed out, and pulled it back. Even though his arms were numb and his muscles were sore, he persisted in repeating the mechanical stabbing action.

Joyful, exciting, and passionate!
One after another, the Tartars died under his own and his teammates' attacks. Huang Zilong clearly felt that his side's chances of victory had increased.

"Killing the Tartars, so cool!"

His teammates were right beside him, shouting and screaming loudly. Every new and old player would feel their morale boosted by 1000% if they could personally kill the Tartar!

"Kill!" Huang Zilong took the lead in the assassination. The fierce front-row players took a half step forward with their shields, and thrust out the swift lances to catch the enemy off guard.

Even if the enemy keeps charging, and the elite flag soldiers are extremely ferocious, and even rush into the shield wall to slash with swords, they will be entangled by the Ming army of the players who come to fill in the position, and finally fight in a group.

The Qing soldiers did not dare to surround the rear of this unit, fearing that the enemy main camp would send out new forces to attack from the front and back, so they only formed a shield wall to surround the enemy on three sides.

"Oh oh oh oh oh!" Some players let out strange roars of extreme excitement, as if chimpanzees in the woods were holding a concert to see who had the loudest voice.

Blood spurted, armor clanged, swords and shields clashed, and the merit value reminders for killing enemies kept whispering in his ears. Huang Zilong only felt that there was a hot fire burning in his body.

He became more courageous as the battle went on, and stabbed faster and faster. The enemy's blood slid down the lance into his hand, causing him to suddenly drop the slippery lance.

He was not frightened by the lance falling out of his hand. He drew his sword reflexively, a move he had experienced countless times in actual combat on the battlefield.

He drew his sword and slashed forward. The bodies of the enemy soldiers in front of him fell to the ground, but Qing soldiers continued to step on the corpses to rush towards him and fight with him.

At this time, Huang Zilong heard the captain's slightly hoarse roar and the sound of the flute that supplemented the information.

He knew this was a signal to move back, as the sound of footsteps trampling on blood and mud came from behind him.

Huang Zilong quickly retracted his lance, turned his head to glance at his teammates on both sides, and moved backwards side by side with them.

The players retreated a hundred steps, loosening the originally crowded formation and revealing an open space covered with corpses.

Seeing the enemy retreat, the flag soldiers rushed forward swiftly, quickly filling the place where corpses were scattered just now.

Unexpectedly, just as the Ming army had formed a relatively loose formation, a deafening roar was heard.

"attack!"

Hundreds of "crystal" bottles were thrown out from the second row, and the gray-white cloth strips pressed on the bottle mouths were burning with faint flames.

(End of this chapter)