The Manchu soldiers stationed at Yanmen Pass were living in indulgent comfort.
Ever since they entered the pass, they had burned, looted, and slaughtered their way across the land. From Chun County alone, the spoils filled more than three hundred carts, and these very supplies were now being escorted north through Yanmen Pass.
Whenever such convoys passed through, the garrison troops naturally helped themselves. They skimmed generously from the plunder, as though it were only proper.
This particular group of Manchu soldiers was no different. They draped bolts of fabric looted from Han households over their animal-hide armor, stuck bloodstained silver hairpins—snatched from Han women—into their long braids, and squatted around stolen iron pots, cooking grain taken from the people…
They were in exceedingly high spirits.
Although they had heard that the frontline troops suffered a major defeat while attacking Daizhou, they didn't take it seriously at all. Han people might occasionally win a battle or two, but that didn't change the fundamental truth: the Han could never defeat the Manchu.
As they ate their fill and drank heartily, they loudly complained that the frontline soldiers were nothing but useless fools who didn't know how to fight.
Just then, a loud boom echoed from the distant forest.
"Huh?"
The reveling Manchu soldiers all turned their heads toward the sound.
The very next instant—
Boom!
A second explosion tore through the air. Flames burst across the city wall, smoke billowed upward, and fragments of debris flew everywhere. A section of the defenders on the ramparts collapsed on the spot.
"Enemy attack!"
"Enemy attack!"
"Cannons!"
"No—cannons are louder than this!"
Boom! Boom! Boom!
From the woods, explosions rang out one after another.
Shells arced through the sky in succession.
Explosions blossomed atop the city walls like deadly flowers.
Human flowers.
Yanmen Pass was instantly thrown into chaos. More than five hundred Manchu soldiers inside were seized by confusion and panic.
"The enemy is shelling us from the forest!"
"Damn it! Where are the scouts?! They let the enemy get this close and start shelling us without reporting anything!"
"Engage the enemy!"
"How?! We can't even see them!"
"Shit, take cover! Hide!"
"What kind of demonic shells are these? Why do they explode again after landing?!"
The Manchu defenders were utterly bewildered, taking hits while having no idea what was happening.
Being just one step behind in technology was enough to instill an inexplicable terror. They didn't understand what they were facing, and because they didn't understand it, they feared it. And once fear took hold, the enemy's weapons became even more unfathomable.
That was precisely the situation the Manchu found themselves in.
All the Manchu soldiers scrambled to hide, abandoning even the city walls.
At that moment, figures flickered through the treeline as the Gao Family Village infantry began their advance.
With the artillery suppressing the walls, the infantry's approach was much smoother. They jogged forward rapidly, closing in on the pass.
When the assault first began, the artillery was still pounding Yanmen Pass indiscriminately, keeping the Manchu defenders pinned down, completely unaware that infantry was advancing outside.
But once the infantry reached a certain distance, the artillery had to halt to avoid friendly fire.
The Manchu soldiers inside noticed that the bombardment had weakened. Gaining some courage, they crept out of hiding and cautiously peeked over the city wall—only to see the Gao Family Village infantry less than fifty meters away.
"Enemy attack!"
"The Han army is here!"
Someone screamed, and another scrambled up the watchtower, preparing to strike the alarm bell.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
Several muskets fired at once. The man who had climbed the watchtower was hit by multiple shots and fell straight down.
Although he never managed to ring the bell, the sound of gunfire outside the walls had effectively rung it for him. The defenders inside finally realized what was happening.
"Defend the wall!"
"Archers!"
Along the crenellated battlements, Manchu soldiers immediately popped up, drawing bows and nocking arrows.
Manchu men had hunted and fished since childhood and were extremely confident in their archery. With the enemy within fifty meters, they figured that even if they didn't hit every shot, at least seventy out of a hundred arrows would find their targets.
However, just as they raised their bows, they saw the charging Han soldiers suddenly swing their arms while still running, sending a swarm of small black spheres arcing toward the city wall.
The crenellations could block arrows and musket fire, but they offered no protection against objects flying in a high arc.
Moreover, hand-thrown grenades were far more accurate than the small grenades launched from mortar barrels. During training competitions, many Gao Family Village soldiers had already proven they could toss grenades cleanly into target rings from dozens of meters away.
A rain of black spheres sailed over the wall, followed by an earsplitting series of explosions.
A continuous chain of blasts.
The Manchu archers hiding behind the crenellations were instantly blasted apart, completely routed by the explosions.
Only a few scattered arrows flew back, striking the militia's cotton armor and being easily absorbed.
"They can't hurt us, but we can hurt them!"
That realization alone was a massive boost to morale.
The Gao Family Village Militia surged forward, spirits soaring, covering the final fifty meters in a rush.
In the blink of an eye, they reached the base of the city wall.
The defenders should have been dropping rolling logs and boulders from above, but the Manchu forces were in utter chaos, with no one left to organize such defenses. The militia easily secured their footing beneath the wall.
Someone pulled out a grappling hook and hurled it upward. It caught firmly on a crenellation.
Then Gao Chuwu grabbed the rope with both hands and began climbing at full speed.
This was one of the Gao Family Village Militia's special training drills.
Their training regimen was now extremely comprehensive—cross-country running, climbing, and all kinds of brutal physical exercises.
And someone like Gao Chuwu, who scored full marks in physical ability and zero in academics, naturally excelled at every single one of these drills.
In just moments, he reached the top.
As he was about to crest the wall, a Manchu warrior suddenly leapt out from behind the crenellations, thrusting a spear toward Gao Chuwu, who was still clinging to the rope. Gao Chuwu locked the rope with his legs, held on with his left hand, and with his right drew a musket.
Point-blank shot.
Bang.
The Manchu soldier trying to stab him was blasted backward.
"Muskets really are handy,"
Gao Chuwu muttered thickly. He tossed the musket back down to the base of the wall for a comrade to retrieve, then pulled himself up further until both feet landed on the battlements.
More Manchu soldiers rushed him immediately. With no time to draw another weapon, Gao Chuwu sidestepped a spear thrust, lunged forward, grabbed a Manchu warrior by the neck, and snapped it with a crisp crack.
Only then did he gain a brief moment to draw a large saber from his back.
It was a thick-backed broadsword—a loving gift from Xing Honglang.
Purchased at the Xi'an market for three taels of silver.
The hilt was even wrapped in red cloth. Stylish to the extreme.
Gao Chuwu swung the saber wildly. Within several meters, no one could approach him.
A few Manchu soldiers coordinated, leveling their spears and trying to overwhelm him with numbers, thrusting from several meters away. Gao Chuwu simply half-squatted, grabbed a Manchu corpse from the ground, and hurled it at them.
The corpse flew like a grotesque projectile. Faced with such a ferocious and utterly unreasonable weapon, the spearmen had no idea how to respond. They collapsed like bowling pins struck head-on.
Seeing the sheer savagery of this Han commander, the remaining Manchu warriors felt a chill crawl down their spines.
"Damn it…"
"This is absolutely a human beast."