Chief Armaments Master of the Ming Dynasty

The caravan slowly entered the bend. The lead cavalry had already passed the narrowest part of the bend and began to head towards the end of the ravine. The large carts in the middle were entering the bend one after another, the drivers urging the mules and horses on, the wheels creaking and groaning as they rolled over the gravel.

Lin Fan's heart was racing. He was waiting. Waiting for the perfect moment.

The middle section of the convoy—where the grain wagons were most concentrated—finally entered the bend. Dozens of wagons were crammed onto the narrow mountain road, forcing the drivers to slow down and carefully maneuver their mules and horses through. The entire bend was packed with wagons, horses, and people.

Right now.

"Ignite it," Lin Fan said in a deep voice.

Zhang Nai personally lit the fuse of the first cannon.

The hissing sound of the fuse burning was exceptionally clear in the silent mountain forest.

Then came a deafening roar.

boom--!!!

The first shell whistled through the air, striking precisely a large wagon at the narrowest point of the bend. The solid iron ball pierced the wagon's planks, shattered the sacks, and snapped the axle. The wagon collapsed with a crash, spilling its grain everywhere. The mules and horses, startled, reared up, neighing and running wildly.

Then came the second shot, the third shot, the fourth shot...

Ten cannons fired simultaneously, shells raining down on the convoy around the bend like hail. Solid shot pierced the truck beds, smashing skulls and breaking spines; shrapnel, like a giant iron broom, swept through, leaving blood and flesh flying everywhere.

Chaos erupted on the bend. Drivers screamed and jumped from the carts to save their lives, while mules and horses, terrified, ran rampant and trampled each other.

The cavalrymen's horses, startled by the cannon fire, reared up, throwing their riders to the ground. The infantrymen panicked and scattered in all directions, but had nowhere to escape—steep mountain walls on both sides, and the road blocked by bombed carts in front and behind.

"Fire the arrows!" Li Zicheng gave the order from the hillside.

The archers, lying in ambush among the trees, released their bowstrings.

Arrows rained down like locusts.

Although most of these arrows had cast iron arrowheads and limited penetrating power, they were more than enough to deal with unarmored coachmen and infantry at such close range.

Screams rose and fell. People continued to fall, wounded by arrows, their blood flowing down the hillside and forming dark red streams.

"Artillery! Keep bombarding! Don't stop!" Lin Fan shouted the order.

Zhang Nai led the gunners, loading, aiming, and firing in one fluid motion. Their foreheads were covered in sweat, yet their hands remained remarkably steady on the gun barrels. More than six months of training and thousands of live-fire exercises had now become muscle memory.

At the exit of the bend, all six cannons opened fire simultaneously. The government cavalry, attempting to break through the bend, were met head-on by a dense barrage of bullets. Iron shards and gravel exploded among the cavalry, causing men and horses to fall in a gruesome scene.

At the entrance to the bend, four cannons blocked the retreat of the government troops. The infantrymen at the rear tried to turn back and escape, but were smashed to pieces by cannonballs and retreated back into the ditch.

The bend in the road turned into a fortified city. The government troops were trapped inside, their cannons pointed at the opening. Unable to move in or out, they could only await their deaths.

On horseback, in a relatively open area halfway down the bend, Deputy General Zhou shouted hoarsely, trying to organize a counterattack.

Blood splattered on his face, indistinguishable between enemy and his own. His personal guards surrounded him, using their shields to deflect incoming arrows and shrapnel.

"Don't panic! Don't panic!" he roared hoarsely. "Archers! Fire up the hillside! Cavalry! Charge towards the mouth of the gully! Charging out is the only way to survive!"

Under his command, the government troops began to recover from the initial chaos.

Some archers found cover and began to return fire up the hillside.

The government troops' arrows were far superior to those of the rebels; the arrowheads were forged from fine iron, the shafts were straight, and the fletching was neat.

Arrows whistled up the hillside, and several newly emerged archers were hit, screaming as they tumbled down the slope.

The cavalry also began their charge towards the mouth of the ditch. Although the mouth was blocked by artillery fire, the cavalry's momentum was not to be underestimated. The first wave of charging cavalry was almost entirely felled by shrapnel, but the second wave followed closely behind, and the third wave followed closely behind. Their hooves trampled over the corpses of their comrades, fearlessly crashing into the artillery positions at the mouth of the ditch.

"Shotguns! Quick! Shotguns!" the artillery captain at the mouth of the ditch shouted hoarsely.

The gunners frantically loaded loose rounds, but the cavalry was too fast. The first rider had already charged to within two hundred paces of the artillery position. The mounted cavalryman crouched low, his saber raised high, its blade reflecting a blinding glint in the sunlight.

Lin Fan witnessed this scene from the hillside directly in front. He whirled around and roared at the New Army archers behind him, "Explosive rockets! Quickly, fire them towards the mouth of the gully!"

No sooner had he finished speaking than dozens of archers from the new army ignited explosive rockets and fired them with all their might toward the mouth of the ditch.

Boom—! Boom—!

Dozens of explosive rockets detonated amidst the cavalry. Iron slag and gravel flew everywhere, several horses were thrown off balance, and the riders behind them stumbled, creating chaos. Taking advantage of the chaos, the gunners at the ditch mouth reloaded their shot and unleashed another volley. The shells swept through the cavalry at close range, tearing flesh and blood apart, men and horses falling to the ground.

The third wave of attack was repelled.

Deputy General Zhou witnessed this scene from the bend in the road, and his face turned ashen.

He looked around—the caravan was mostly destroyed, more than half of the mules and horses were dead or wounded, the infantry suffered heavy casualties, and the cavalry's three charges had all been repelled. He knew the grain convoy was finished.

But he couldn't just die here. He was Cao Wenzhao's deputy general; he had fought half his life and couldn't die at the hands of a band of bandits.

"Everyone, listen to my command!" He drew his sword, his voice hoarse but firm. "Abandon the grain carts! Charge towards the mouth of the ditch! Every single one of you who gets through is a victory!"

The remaining government troops, as if grasping at the last straw, surged towards the mouth of the ditch like madmen.

The cavalry were in front, the infantry behind, and the archers fired arrows up the hillside as they retreated.

They no longer cared about formation or their comrades; they had only one thought—to break out of this damned ditch.

Lin Fan witnessed this. He ordered Zhang Nai, "All cannons, switch to loose shells. Concentrate your fire on the gully mouth!"

Twenty cannons were simultaneously aimed at the mouth of the ditch. The gunners frantically loaded, aimed, and fired. Shells rained down on the ditch mouth, each blast accompanied by screams of agony.

The mouth of the ditch became a meat grinder. Government troops, like moths to a flame, charged forward wave after wave, only to be swallowed up by artillery fire wave after wave.

The corpses piled higher and higher, their blood soaking the dry yellow earth, forming dark red streams that flowed along the official road.

Deputy General Zhou charged ahead. His warhorse was riddled with bullets, and he fell off, but got up again and charged on foot towards the mouth of the ditch. He was hit in the left arm by a pellet, and blood streamed down his arm, but he still gripped his knife and moved forward step by step.

His personal guards fell one by one. In the end, he was the only one left.

He stood amidst the mountain of corpses, panting heavily, staring at the ditch mouth less than fifty paces ahead.

Outside the ditch mouth lies a way to survive.

But what prevented them from breaking through were twenty steel cannons that were still smoking.

He knew he couldn't get through.

He turned around and looked at the figures still firing cannons on the hillside.

His eyes held resentment, anger, and a deep sorrow. He had fought half his life, from Liaodong to Shaanxi, from the Jurchens to the bandits. He never imagined he would die at the hands of a band of cannon-wielding bandits.

He raised his knife, pointed it at the hillside, and let out a hoarse roar.

Then, a shell whistled through the air and shattered his chest.

Deputy General Zhou's body slowly fell to the ground. His knife was still clutched in his hand.

The battle is over.

Smoke curled from the Blackwater Gully. At the bottom of the gully, along the official road, lay a haphazard array of human and horse carcasses.

Most of the grain carts were destroyed, and the grain was scattered all over the ground, soaked in blood, and turned into clumps of dark red paste. The air was filled with a nauseating smell of blood and gunpowder.

Lin Fan stood on the hillside, gazing at the scene at the bottom of the ravine, remaining silent.

Zhang Nai stood beside him, his face pale and his lips trembling slightly. This was his first time on the battlefield, the first time he had witnessed firsthand how the shells he had fired himself could turn living people into mincemeat.

"Master Lin..." His voice trembled slightly, "Did we win?"

"We won," Lin Fan said.

Looking at Zhang Nai's pale face, he added, "You played very well."

Zhang Nai managed a weak smile, but it froze on his face before it could fully bloom.

He suddenly turned around, squatted down, and began to vomit violently.

Lin Fan didn't try to comfort him. He knew this was a hurdle every new recruit had to overcome. Once he'd vomited, he'd be fine. If he hadn't, he'd vomit again later.

Han Jinhu walked over, his face covered in gunpowder ash, grinning, "Brother Lin, the government army's grain transport team is completely wiped out. Not a single cart escaped."

Lin Fan nodded and looked into the depths of the bend. Li Zicheng, with his personal guards, was there tallying up the spoils of war. He rolled down the slope and headed towards the bend.

The scene was even more horrific on the bend.

Dozens of large carts were crammed together, some still burning and billowing black smoke. The bodies of drivers and mules lay scattered around the carts, some mangled by cannonballs, others riddled with arrows like hedgehogs.

Blood and food were mixed together, forming a thick layer on the road.

Li Zicheng stood beside a smashed grain cart, gazing at the corpses scattered on the ground, his face calm.

Seeing Lin Fan approach, he asked, "How many casualties have we suffered?"

"The count is still being taken. Preliminary estimates indicate over thirty dead and over fifty wounded." Lin Fan paused, "The casualties were mainly caused by government archers."

Li Zicheng's jaw muscles twitched slightly.

More than thirty brothers were left forever on this hillside.

Just half an hour ago, they were vibrant lives. Now, their bodies will be dumped in the weeds beside the black ditch, unknown to anyone.

"Where are the government troops?"

"Preliminary estimates indicate that over 500 enemy soldiers were killed and more than 200 were captured. Only fewer than 300 escaped back," Lin Fan said. "We also seized approximately 2,000 shi of grain, as well as a number of weapons, armor, and mules and horses."

Li Zicheng nodded. "Take everything you can carry. Burn what you can't carry. Link the strong enemy soldiers together with ropes and escort them; put the wounded soldiers of the New Army who can't walk on captured mule carts. Half an hour later, the whole army will retreat."

"Yes."

Half an hour later, the group left the Blackwater Gully.

The mule carts, carrying captured grain, weapons, and wounded soldiers, headed south along the mountain road they had come from.

Lin Fan walked at the back of the group and glanced back at Blackwater Ditch.

Thick smoke billowed from the direction of the gully mouth, carrying the remains of grain carts reduced to ashes and corpses. The smoke rose into the twilight sky like a powerful signal, telling all who saw it—a bloody battle had just taken place here.

He withdrew his gaze and followed the group into the twilight.