Section Four

Old Trafford gazed ahead for a long time, then pointed forward and said to Murong Wu, "Those ships are Moorish galleys. At this distance, vessels with a draft as deep as ours cannot possibly evade their pursuit."

"Pursuit! It seems we had better avoid them!" Murong Wu replied with a faint smile at the corner of his mouth. At the same time, he shouted his orders, "Aft watch, heed! Change helm! Heading southeast!"

Having stayed in China for so long, Old Trafford had learned much more than just the Chinese language. He looked at Murong Wu and asked tentatively, "Feigning defeat to lure the enemy in?!"

Clutching his ever-present saber tightly and rubbing the mustache he had recently grown on his upper lip, Murong Wu said, "These pirates are no different from the bandits in our lands. They run when they see government troops and chase after merchants. Moreover, those bastards have an extremely keen sense of smell; if anything feels slightly amiss, they hold back. I intend to make them take the bait."

The maneuvers of the three warships only served to solidify the pirates' intentions. The men aboard were seasoned scoundrels who could instantly judge the weight and quality of the cargo—or rather, the size of their harvest—simply by observing the size and draft of the vessels. Judging by their course, these three large ships likely came from the distant Far East, and given their draft, the cargo inside was certainly substantial. To the pirates, dense firepower was merely temporary. Those firestick-like weapons, in their view, could at best fire a single volley during a boarding action. Once closed in, wouldn't those enemies be entirely at their mercy?! This meant that after this single exchange of volleys, very little resistance would remain on the ship. How could this not drive them wild with madness?

Murong Wu stood tall with his sword drawn, positioned at the very front of the formation. Raising his long blade once more, he shouted in a booming voice, "Unbreakable Invincibility!!—Advance!!"

"Advance!!—" The Han soldiers raised their bayonets in unison, stepping forward and shouting in response, "Advance!!—Advance!!—"

Nearly a hundred bayonets thrust out simultaneously, instantly riddling the fiercest frontline pirates with holes. Several soldiers let out loud shouts, impaling the mangled corpses onto their bayonets, and then hoisted them upward with a mighty heave, tearing them apart in mid-air. Shreds of tattered flesh and viscera flew like rain, scattering across the entire deck. The momentum of the subsequent wave of pirates abruptly stalled, and they looked around in panic; for a moment, not a single one dared to step forward.

Murong Wu waved his long blade, pointing at the small vanguard of pirates who had boarded first, and shouted, "Peerless Dominion!!—Drive them back!!"

"Drive!—Drive!—Drive!..."

The formation continued to press forward, bayonets forming a forest of steel that forced the pirates into a continuous retreat. In the wake of the advance, vast numbers of corpses were left strewn across the deck. Under such agonizing casualties, the pirates finally broke. Someone let out a bizarre, panicked scream, dropped his scimitar, and turned to flee. As the cry echoed, the pirate horde immediately collapsed, turning as one to leap over the gunwales and into the sea.

Yet now, Murong Wu was by his side. Although Murong Wu was not one to boast of his military exploits, Old Trafford had learned of them through various channels. Regarding a fierce general who dared to stand toe-to-toe against elite cavalry that had terrorized Europe centuries ago, Old Trafford did not believe these pirates stood a single chance of winning. Everything that was about to unfold would proceed like a rehearsed drill, ending in the complete annihilation of these pirates—even though their numbers were several times greater than originally anticipated.

Paying no heed to Captain Trafford, Murong Wu gave a loud command, "Wind, Forest, Fire, Mountain!—Fall back!"

Upon hearing the order, the Han soldiers immediately dispersed in all directions, concealing themselves within the various cabins and structures.

The towering gunwales posed no obstacle at all to the pirates' practiced climbing skills. Some pirates with exceptional agility even grabbed the ropes on the masts and swung across directly from aloft. At that moment, the deck of the *Return* was virtually empty, save for a chaotic mess of corpses. The pirates seemed to have anticipated this; they had encountered such scenes countless times during past raids, and in their minds, those cowardly crew members were simply trembling in some forgotten corner.

Where were the men? Where were the crew members who had been firing at them from the ship just moments ago? As the vanguard of the raiding force, renowned among their peers for their ferocity, these men had vanished without a sound, not even uttering a single cry. A growing sense of unease settled among the pirates. They did not fear death; born of the ocean and destined to die upon the waves, they had embraced the prospect of death the moment they entered this trade. Yet dying in such an incomprehensible manner was truly enough to stir boundless terror.

While the pirates hesitated, the other two warships quietly altered their formations. Viewed from hundreds of meters above sea level, the three ships now formed a triangle, not only encircling the majority of the pirate vessels but also cutting off their retreat. On the distant horizon, several small black dots could be faintly seen approaching at high speed.

"Mount Tai Crushing Down!!—Charge!"

Before the cry faded, the previously silent deck was suddenly swarming with Han soldiers, every last one of them roaring at the top of their lungs: "Charge!—Charge!!—Charge!!!" They surged forward, swarming the pirates from all sides.

Murong Wu let out a thunderous roar as he rushed out of the captain's quarters.

The pirates were willing to risk their lives, but the problem was that they needed an opening to fight. When it came to individual combat capability, the fierce fighters who had gone before them had already delivered a clear message. As for coordination... there was virtually no basis for comparison; expecting bandits to match the coordination of a regular army was utterly unrealistic. Even in terms of weapons and armor, the Damascus sabers in their hands merely managed a temporary draw against the enemy's equipment. Watching these soldiers, who looked as though they had emerged straight from the depths of hell, closing in step by step over a floor slick with the blood of their comrades, the pirates saw that not a single enemy soldier had fallen.

This sight utterly shattered the pirates' morale. It was not as though they had never fought against regular armies. Yet they had never witnessed a force so ferocious they scarcely seemed human. Someone let out a shrill, piercing shriek: "By Allah!—They are demons!..." The other pirates echoed the cry, screaming of demons as they dropped their weapons and turned to flee headlong.

Murong Wu felt nothing but utter contempt in his heart for the enemy's flight in the face of battle. Influenced by millennia of Chinese tradition, the one thing he could least tolerate was the rout of soldiers, even though these bandits had no right to be called soldiers in the first place. He wiped his blood-stained saber against the gunwale, and without looking back, issued a cold order: "No survivors!"

The gun ports on both sides of the warships flew open, and the fully loaded cannons unleashed their fury. At such close range, loaded with canister shot, the galleys—whose freeboards sat lower than the warships—had no defense whatsoever. The pirates who had just fled back to their ships, believing they had escaped with their lives, were mowed down in batches upon the decks.

Murong Wu thoroughly enjoyed acts of hitting a man while he was down and leaving no loose ends. The soldiers who had moments earlier wielded sabers now picked up bows and crossbows, systematically picking off the few pirates who had miraculously survived the cannon fire. These men, accustomed to mounted archery across the steppes, proved infallible marksmen. Within a short time, very few breathing souls remained on the galleys surrounding the three warships.

Those pirate ships that lay slightly farther away and had sustained less severe damage naturally seized the chance to flee for their lives, hastily steering their vessels away. Yet at the start, everyone had scrambled in a chaotic rush, entangling one another; escaping was far easier said than done. The two warships of the expeditionary fleet were far more direct, hoisting their sails to block any room for maneuver while unleashing a relentless torrent of firepower. Pity those galleys—originally equipped with ample artillery that, had they been fully prepared, could have easily sunk the three warships. But now, amidst heavy casualties, the crews could not even muster enough sailors to handle the sails, let alone gunners to man the cannons.

What terrified the pirates even more was that the heavens themselves seemed wrathful toward them, as the wind direction suddenly shifted. They could see that trailing behind the *Return*, six more vessels bearing the same flag were bearing down with full white sails, advancing at high speed.

This sight delivered the final blow to the pirates' breaking spirit. With both resistance and escape routes blocked, numerous pirates cast their weapons into the sea and dropped to their knees, crawling on all fours. Though Eastern and Western cultures differed, this gesture was universal. Before Murong Wu issued an order, the expeditionary force's archers held their fire against this group of surrendered men.

With the first example set, imitators quickly followed. Soon, the decks of the remaining galleys were crowded with kneeling figures bowing low.

Murong Wu narrowed his eyes slightly, surveying the captives. Having spent so much time with him, Old Trafford understood most of Murong Wu's temperament and could roughly guess what was on his mind. Coughing lightly, Trafford said, "Respected General Murong, in the West, when the battle is lost, surrender is considered an understandable course of action." Of course, he left another thought unsaid: for pirates, even under the most lenient laws, there was only one fate upon capture—being hanged in the public square!

Such customs had been frequently mentioned in casual chats with Old Trafford, so Murong Wu was not entirely unfamiliar with them. Yet hearing them and witnessing them firsthand evoked two entirely different feelings. He thought to himself that as his troops were about to enter the West, they would undoubtedly encounter such situations repeatedly; it was time to start getting used to it.

Murong Wu pondered for a moment, then turned to the staff officer behind him and ordered, "Send men to secure them first. We'll deal with the rest after we've wiped out the remaining remnants!"

Seeing that the flagship had secured the situation, the six trailing warships did not pause for a moment, charging directly toward the remaining pirates. Realizing the scale of the disturbance, the pirates had already braced themselves, and upon seeing the Han fleet bearing down directly upon them, they immediately took countermeasures.