Who killed the Ming Dynasty?

With a clang, Wang Jing drew his goose-feather saber from his waist, pointing it directly at the gap in front of him:

"Pass on the order!"

He gave a sharp shout, and the flag officer immediately sprang into action, throwing three black flags into the night sky in succession:

First order: Musketeers, fire in three volleys to suppress the chariot formation!

Second order: The rattan shield bearers form a fan-shaped formation, with the hook-and-sickle soldiers cooperating!

Third order: Once the gates are open, the armored cavalry charge into the formation!

Wang Jing pointed his iron whip at the chariot formation ahead:

"Make a three-inch opening, and then I'll wed all my iron cavalry in!"

"Yes, sir!"

As soon as the first black flag landed, three hundred musketeers advanced swiftly, raising their muskets an inch to aim specifically at the observation port on top of the battering ram.

Lead bullets rained down on the roof of the vehicle, pounding the wooden planks with a crackling sound and making the teeth of the soldiers inside ache.

A hole was blasted through the sunroof of a battering ram. As the defender peered out to check, he was met with a second volley of fire. Blood spurted from his forehead, and he was thrown backward, collapsing limply back into the ram.

Almost simultaneously with the smoke of battle, the second command flag was raised.

Five hundred rattan shield bearers moved in response to the flag, quickly spreading out in a fan shape.

The front row of shields stood at an angle like a slope, while the rear row of shields were stacked on top of each other, as dense and impenetrable as scales.

The hook-and-sickle soldier crouched low and squeezed through the gaps in the shields, his iron chain, wrapped with wet cowhide, dragging along the ground.

Chen Sanhu, the leader, bit the crescent blade into his mouth, his bare arm bearing a hideous scar.

He swung his sickle sharply, precisely hooking it at the junction of the wheel spokes and the hub, the most vulnerable "crack" in the wooden wheel.

He gripped the chains with both hands, leaned back and exerted force, the chains digging into his palms with a sharp, piercing pain, but he clenched his teeth and didn't utter a sound.

"Bite the string!"

With a roar, his three men crouched down, bracing themselves against the shields and stomping their feet hard on the earthen slope.

"Moo—!"

The battering ram on the far right suddenly let out a mournful wail like that of a bull.

Eight winch operators turned the winch wheels in a "one fast, two slow" rhythm, and the leather rope suddenly taut, tightening the axle and making a cracking sound.

"Boom—!"

The "wolf-tooth logs" crashed down from the ranks of the Great Western Army. The sandalwood logs, as thick as a bowl, fell with a crash, but were blocked by the tilted shields of the front row and flew off at an angle.

Taking advantage of the opportunity, Chen Sanhu swung out his second hook sickle, which snapped into the crossbeam at the bottom of the battering ram.

A panicked Shu voice came from inside the car:

"Oh no! It's the winch locking the car!"

"Cut the rope! Cut it now—"

As soon as the centurion who was shouting peeked out, three lead bullets pierced his breastplate, and blood splattered onto the fragments of the mural inside the car, turning the figures in the painting into hideous ghosts.

"Tiger Lord! The rope's about to slip!"

The young soldier behind Chen Sanhu's voice trembled, his fingers almost unable to grip the iron chains.

"A retaining ring!"

The boy suddenly realized what was happening and fastened the iron ring at the bottom of the shield into the iron chain. The iron ring snapped shut and bit the chain hard.

He took advantage of the shield as a "human anchor" and curled up as a fulcrum.

Before the words were finished, the battering ram suddenly accelerated backward, and the broken chains wrapped with copper nails shot out.

At the critical moment, Chen Sanhu leaped and lunged towards the rut, while another hook instantly hooked onto the underside of the car.

He was dragged for more than ten feet, with gravel scraping against his back, and he held on with his clenched teeth and sheer grit.

"Freeze for me!"

He forced out a roar through clenched teeth, and the twenty hook-and-sickle men behind him simultaneously stomped on the edges of their shields, shouting in unison, using the combined pull of the winch and their own bodies to drag them forcefully.

The iron chains vibrated like a dragon's roar, and the left battering ram suddenly tilted to the side, crashing down the slope like a drunkard, taking the two battering rams next to it with it.

Several corpses rolled out of the cracked cart. The topmost corpse was wearing the uniform of a servant of the Shu King's Palace, with half a cornbread hanging from its waist.

"Hold on!"

Wang Jing roared, his eyes flashing with cold light.

Chen Sanhu wiped the blood and mud off his face, knowing that his mission was complete, and a surge of joy welled up in his heart.

Through the billowing smoke and dust, he saw the Da Xi army frantically trying to plug the gap in the battering ram with their shields.

"Break the formation—!"

Wang Jing's goose-feather blade once again tore through the night sky.

Fifty heavily armored cavalrymen charged toward the breach like arrows released from a bow.

The thick armor plates clanged together with a hum, the warhorse's iron face was ferocious, and the steel tip of the lance gleamed with a chilling light.

The lead rider took the iron bow from his waist.

"Swish, swish, swish...!"

Twelve armor-piercing arrows shot out like meteors!

To the crooked-mouthed guard, the flying black dot seemed to magnify in an instant;

With a "whoosh," an arrow whizzed past his ear, and another guard behind him was pinned to the ground by several arrows.

The entire heavy cavalry force wedged itself into the breach like an iron wedge.

A warhorse was pierced through the neck by a spear thrusting from the side, and it crashed to the ground, throwing the rider on its back heavily into the enemy ranks.

The cavalry followed without stopping, charging forward over the corpses.

The lance first pierced through the shields in front, then lifted the soldiers behind the shields into the air; when the spikes on the shoulder plates scraped against the battering ram beams, they brought down large pieces of wood chips and blood.

Just as the commander of the Great Western Army raised his sword, "Bang—!" a second armored horse rammed into him, causing his chest to cave in.

Before his consciousness faded, the last thing he saw was the warhorse's nostrils spitting out white foam and the knight's expressionless eyes beneath his visor.

Before the blood mist he spat out had dissipated, a third warhorse had already leaped over his corpse and into the breach.

Another heavy cavalryman's lance got stuck on the crossbeam of the battering ram. He abandoned the lance, drew his saber, and cut the wooden beam in half with one stroke.

The falling log struck the enemy below, but was deflected by the breastplate on his chest.

Just as the torrent of iron cavalry smashed open the breach, time seemed to pause for a moment, and only the hoarse gasps of the wounded and the crackling sound of flames licking the wood remained in the world.

Wang Jing suddenly flicked his wrist!

"Waaaaah—waaaah—waaaah!"

His soldiers immediately raised their three-foot-long ox horns and blew them loudly.

This is the unique "Three-Beat Horn" of the Liaodong Iron Cavalry of the Ming Dynasty. Its sound is like the howl of a hungry wolf to the moon, filled with murderous intent amidst its shrillness.

"All troops, advance!"

Upon hearing the signal, the musketeers immediately dispersed to both flanks, and the remaining nine hundred light cavalry surged toward the breach like a flood bursting its banks;

The warhorses' iron hooves trampled the blood-soaked ground into a cloud of blood mist, bringing with them a pungent, fishy stench.

As soon as the Daxi arquebusier lit the fuse, Liaodong Dama charged into the three-zhang-wide range, braving lead bullets.

"Break through!"

Wang Jing's roar exploded outside the breach.

He spurred his horse, and the warhorse suddenly accelerated, its armor scraping against the brick wall and sending sparks flying.

As the warhorse reared up with a neigh, its hooves ripped the skull off a soldier in the front row of the Great Western Army, causing the tremors at the wound to intensify.

"Block the grain carts! Quickly!"

Twenty strong men suddenly rushed out from behind the city wall, pushing several wheelbarrows piled high with sacks, from which old millet poured out with a clatter.

But the cavalrymen who followed took advantage of the momentum and leaped into the air!

The goose-feather blade slashed down with a chilling light, severing three arms.

When the iron cavalry finally breached the Zunyi Gate, the collapsed battering ram roof buried half of the remaining mural, in which a prince was being trampled into the bloody mud by horses' hooves.

The dark mass of infantry followed closely behind the iron cavalry like a tidal wave.

Wang Jing's main attacking force was now being turned into a bloody grinder, being squeezed into the breach in the city wall.

The charging cavalry split up on either side of the flames, their blades piercing the burning sacks, and the rain of fire cleared a path for the infantry to advance.

As the last defender was trampled into the paving stones by the iron hooves, a bronze door nail, a remnant from the bombing of the city last month, was humming and vibrating under the horses' hooves at the gap in the collapsed corner tower.

Wang Jing reined in his horse and stood in the center of the breach, his goose-feather saber pointing straight at the inner city, its sound shattering the sky:

"Execute! Traitor!

Behind them, thousands of troops surged into the gap in Zunyi Gate like a tidal wave.