Chapter Eleven

A bolt of lightning suddenly tore through the sky, casting the world into a flickering dance of day and night. Thunder rolled, rumbling and roaring as it crashed toward the earth. Only just shaken by the deafening peal, the people of the capital city gradually settled, hurrying to gather the clothes and dried vegetables hanging outside their doors.

The wind rose, and yellow sands billowed like clouds, howling as they swept toward the city, engulfing an entire army and drowning out all sound.

Leading over a hundred cavalry at the forefront, Zhao Guangyuan charged directly toward the inner city, rampaging along the way. The townsfolk scattered in panic, cursing these arrogant government troops, but their curses had scarcely faded when they realized, to their astonishment, that the cavalry was merely the vanguard. A great army followed behind, layer upon layer of infantry instantly flooding the main thoroughfares. Blades were drawn, arrows nocked, bloodlust thick in the air. A few street vendors, too slow to escape, were struck down where they stood, their bodies falling at the soldiers’ feet.

Hot, sticky blood splattered across the ground. Headless corpses were trampled underfoot, soon reduced to mud. The people gaped in disbelief at the swarming soldiers, momentarily stunned as the leading infantry rushed faster, their eyes red as demons. Any hapless soul in their path was cut down without a glance. At the first shout—no one knew who cried out—the citizens fled in every direction. The once-bustling street was abruptly left desolate, as though transformed into a ghostly domain.

The rolling tide of steel split into several detachments, each heading for one of the city’s gates, encountering no resistance. Lin Feng, commanding the main force, pressed forward under Zhou Peigong’s guidance, making for the headquarters of the city’s infantry commander.

Mounted, Lin Feng wiped the sweat from his brow, momentarily heartened by the smooth progress in the outer city. “Peigong!”

“Here, sir!”

“Quickly take Liu Old Four’s troops to support Zhao Guangyuan. The inner city’s defenses must fall! The Six Ministries, all major offices, the Forbidden City—I entrust them to you. As we discussed, all troops are under your command. Any who disobey are to be executed—no one from Kangxi down is to escape. If even one does, you alone will answer for it!”

“Rest assured, General. Kangxi won’t get away,” Zhou Peigong replied with a carefree salute, smiling as if nothing were amiss.

Seeing Lin Feng personally help him mount, Chen Menglei was moved to tears. Not long ago, his fate was uncertain. Now, he had been recognized and promoted—was this not every scholar’s dream? His hand caressed his horse’s mane, a thousand emotions surging within him. It felt almost like a dream—he’d gambled, and won. Quietly wiping his tears and steadying himself, he said, “General, you are in the midst of events yet unaware of their true nature. You have stumbled into a treasure house without realizing it!”

“Oh? Old Chen, what do you mean?” Lin Feng was secretly delighted, though he feigned surprise.

“I once served in the Ministry of War, so I know a thing or two about military matters,” Chen Menglei replied, regaining his composure with a smile. “Since the eighth year of Kangxi’s reign, the false Emperor Kangxi has been obsessed with weakening the vassals, so he’s been stockpiling grain, pay, and silver, and ordering craftsmen to forge cannons and weapons. As far as I know, the War Ministry’s armory—along with the Chariot Division—holds countless cannons, muskets, and warhorses. The horses may not be in the capital, but the cannons, muskets, armor, and weapons remain sealed and untouched. What are your thoughts, General?”

“Ah?!” Lin Feng’s mouth fell open, his mind blank.

“The other day, when I visited former colleagues at the Ministry of War, I learned that the armory holds four hundred and twenty Western cannons and tiger squat cannons, with over two hundred siege guns exceeding two thousand pounds each. There are also more than twelve thousand muskets and matchlocks, as well as countless sabers, spears, armor, and arrows…”

Lin Feng scarcely heard the rest. He was practically drooling, overwhelmed with excitement. At last, he thought, fortune had truly smiled upon him. Kangxi, your game is over—you can eat dirt! I’ll blast you to pieces with my cannons! Without another word, he turned and shouted, “Rick! Captain Rick!”

Rick was right beside him. Puzzled, he turned his head, seeing Lin Feng still searching. He reached out and patted his shoulder. “General, I’m right here beside you!”

Lin Feng, in high spirits, cared nothing for the breach of decorum. “Rick, how is your training with your men progressing?”

“General, as you know, we have yet to be issued firearms. With nothing but cold steel, our effectiveness is limited.”

Already, the Imperial City loomed in the distance. Zhou Peigong, commanding the troops, had received word and came to meet them with Zhao Guangyuan, Liu Old Four, and others. Lin Feng, seeing them all ragged and blackened, was momentarily stunned before breaking into laughter. “What’s happened? You all look like kitchen gods!”

Zhou Peigong replied with a smile, “Exactly! We set a few fires—some of those princes and nobles wanted to make a stand, so we burned their mansions to end matters quickly.”

Lin Feng looked across the way and saw flickers of fire and rising smoke, only now noticing them in the darkness and wind. He frowned. “You didn’t harm the women and children of the Eight Banners, did you?”

Zhou Peigong looked at Lin Feng in surprise. For soldiers rooting out Manchu officials, arson, slaughter, looting, and worse were expected. Yet seeing Lin Feng’s concern, he seemed to understand, saluted, and said, “No need to worry, General. The able-bodied men of the Eight Banners are all away on campaign. With the recent Chahar rebellion, even the stronger bondservants have joined the army. Fewer than a thousand, including the crippled, remain. If the women, children, and elders try anything, we need only surround the exits and set fires on all sides. In a few hours, we could wipe out tens of thousands.” He smiled slightly. “Your prudence is admirable, sir. I am deeply impressed.”

Lin Feng nearly choked but, seeing Zhou Peigong’s earnest gaze, could only wave his hand wearily. “So that’s it. I was overthinking.”

Coming from a later era, Lin Feng bore none of the Han people’s deep-seated resentment toward the Manchus. He had no hatred for them—indeed, he’d had Manchu classmates at university, with whom he’d drunk, talked, and played games. But now, things were different. He finally realized that, in such times, protecting innocent women and children of minority peoples was a hopeless ideal. War between nations is one of the most terrifying of all things; when blades are drawn, there is no room for mercy.

Drawing closer, the cannons came into view—mounted on wooden carriages, hauled laboriously by sturdy mules whose steps slipped and slid under the weight.

“Rick!” Lin Feng pointed to the distant Forbidden City. “I want you to blast open the city gates for me. Is there a problem?”

“General!” Rick, sweating profusely, stood at attention, steam rising from his neck. Clearly, he had exerted himself. “These old Portuguese cannons are outdated and have no aiming devices. I can’t guarantee success,” he said with a wry smile, wiping his brow. “Most of the ammunition is solid shot, with only a little grape shot.”

Lin Feng shook his head. “I don’t care. I want those gates down, and I want it now!” He pointed again at the massive palace doors.

Resigned, Rick nodded, gave a European-style salute, and turned to command his soldiers. Soon, four massive gun pits were dug, and hundreds of men, straining with all their might and aided by mules and horses, dragged the cannons into place. Rick, fully alert, gauged the distance and calculated the charge.

Lin Feng watched for a while, his patience wearing thin. As preparations neared completion, he beckoned Zhao Guangyuan. “Old Zhao, are your men afraid of the cannons?”

Zhao Guangyuan, his face blackened, grinned, revealing stark white teeth. “Afraid? Our Liaodong troops have long used cannons. In every battle or drill, we fire a few rounds. Even the warhorses aren’t scared!”

Lin Feng was finally reassured. “Then you and your cavalry get as close as you can. When the cannon blows the gates open, I’ll signal you with a torch—charge in and cut them down. Hold out for a bit, and the rest of the troops will follow!”

“Don’t worry, sir. This is our chance—whether we live or die, Beijing will be ours!” Zhao Guangyuan’s face was grim, and his cavalry nodded in unison.

Relieved, Lin Feng turned to see Rick watching him intently. Catching his eye, Rick made an "OK" gesture, but Lin Feng waved him over.

“What is it? Everything’s ready, General, just waiting for your order!”

“Captain, have you finished aiming?”

“Not yet—we’ll need a few test shots to adjust, but it shouldn’t be a problem. We’ve got a clear view, and the distance isn’t far.”

Lin Feng glanced at the open square before the Forbidden City and nodded. “Once you’ve tested and adjusted, take your musket unit and lie in ambush as close to the gate as possible. The cavalry will charge first, and your men must follow at all costs and secure the gate!”

“But General, the artillery…”

Lin Feng cut him off. “I’ll command the artillery myself. You lead the musketeers.” Seeing Rick about to protest, he waved a hand. “That’s enough, sir. Remember your rank—show me some knightly spirit and let me see the military genius of Europe!”

A thunderous boom shook the ground, making Lin Feng’s feet tingle as if the earth trembled. Thick smoke billowed, acrid and choking, bringing tears to his eyes. Damn, he thought, these old cannons are as crude as kitchen stoves. He cursed under his breath, squinting through the haze. Rick stood beside the cannon, his face streaked with soot, stoically enduring the sting as he watched the shot’s effect. Lin Feng couldn’t help but admire his professionalism.

After a few shots, Rick finally had the cannon zeroed in. He signaled to Lin Feng that all was ready.

Lin Feng nodded, looked around, and gave a sweeping gesture. All the torches were instantly extinguished, plunging the position into darkness. The sound of footsteps and hoofbeats mingled as Rick and Zhao Guangyuan each led their units forward to their ambush points. Lin Feng took a deep breath; in truth, he had little confidence. Who knew if this crude, makeshift combination of infantry and artillery would work?

He pulled Chen Menglei aside. “Brother Chen, stand clear. You’re a scholar, don’t get hurt!”

Chen Menglei smiled. “To serve the true lord in a time of turmoil has always been my wish. What is battle to fear? You needn’t worry about me!” Though he said so, he still obeyed and withdrew.

“True lord?” Lin Feng was taken aback, feeling oddly unsettled. Unsure how to respond, he nodded vaguely. Estimating that Rick and Zhao Guangyuan were in position, he raised his hand, paused for a moment, then swung it down with force. “Fire!”

Boom! Boom! A series of thunderous blasts—aided by experience, Lin Feng stood upwind and watched. The illuminated gate erupted in several places, stone chips flying, the doors themselves struck and badly warped.

Without waiting for another command, the makeshift gunners reloaded and fired again. After several volleys, the gate was shattered. The defenders atop the wall were thrown into chaos—understandable, since no one in the Forbidden City’s long history had ever faced cannon fire like this. No one had imagined an army would dare attack so brazenly.

The garrison was in disarray. Lin Feng saw it clearly, snatched up a torch, and ran to the highest point, raising it high. At once, shouts and cries erupted. Cavalry thundered forward, heedless of resistance, surging toward the gate like a whirlwind. In the darkness, white smoke spurted as muskets fired erratically. For a few heartbeats, the main force was deathly silent. Then, as if electrified, they roared and pressed forward in a frenzy.

The whole army charged.

※※※※※※※※※※※※

The other day, a friend told me he won’t read a book with less than a hundred thousand words. Damn. Apparently, this trend was started by the likes of Xuehong and Cloud Sky—damn them. Today, I continue my madness.

Ideal Era