Chapter 58: Deployment of the Wind-Thunder Artillery

Wild Wolf Valley was shrouded in a mist as thick as gauze.

In the distance came the whistling signals of the Langrong cavalry.

Chiliarch Zhao’s cavalry unit had already been completely surrounded.

“Lin Chuan!”

“Present!”

“You had better not let me down with your wind-and-thunder cannons!”

“General, just watch and see!”

Lin Chuan flashed a grin, turned on his heel, and sprinted toward the high-ground position at the valley entrance.

An encounter battle was different from a defensive delaying action; there was no time to dig trenches or bury landmines.

These wind-and-thunder cannons were the secret weapons Lin Chuan had prepared specifically for an encounter.

The twenty iron barrel cannons represented the entire reserve of Iron Forest Fortress.

Manufacturing them had not been particularly difficult.

The principle was similar to later generations of sheet-metal drums.

Strictly speaking, these iron cylinders were not true cannons.

Rather, they were primitive catapult devices for satchel charges.

Their structural design was extremely similar to the “heartless cannons” of the Anti-Japanese War era:

Each iron barrel was forged from three layers of wrought iron, with seven iron rings clamped around the outer wall to prevent bursting.

The barrel was five feet long with an internal diameter of eight inches, leaving a bowl-sized breech vent at the base.

When in use, two catties of gunpowder were first tamped down solidly as the propelling charge, after which a bundled satchel charge was stuffed down the bore.

These explosive satchels were wrapped in three layers of oiled paper, filled inside with a mixture of saltpeter, sulfur, and iron sand, and bound on the outside with hemp rope soaked in tung oil.

The most difficult part was the fuse design.

Lin Chuan had experimented countless times before finally soaking cotton thread repeatedly in saltpeter water and drying it to create a fuse with a stable burning rate, ensuring that the explosive satchel would detonate at the exact moment before hitting the ground.

When firing, soldiers used torches to ignite the fuse outside the breech vent.

The tremendous surge of pressure generated by the exploding gunpowder hurled the five-catty satchel charge over a hundred paces away.

Because the flight trajectory was low and flat, the satchels tended to detonate aerially right above the heads of the enemy troops.

The scattering iron sand could cover an area with a radius of ten zhang.

They were specifically designed to counter dense charges of cavalry.

The only problem was—

Each cannon could be used a maximum of four times.

Otherwise, the barrel was prone to bursting.

“Toot—!”

The combat soldier responsible for monitoring the distance of the enemy cavalry blew his whistle.

“Prepare torches—”

Lin Chuan shouted at the top of his lungs.

In the blink of an eye, the silhouettes of the Langrong cavalry pierced through the mist.

Massed densely, they came thundering forward.

“Fire!”

Twenty torches approached their fuses simultaneously.

“Hiss—”

No sooner had the white smoke from the burning fuses begun to curl upward than the entire valley suddenly shook as if in an earthquake!

“Rumble—!”

Twenty satchel charges soared into the air, tracing charred parabolic arcs through the fog.

The one that landed first smashed directly into the arms of a centurion.

That centurion mistook it for a hurled stone, let out a frightened cry, and only grew confused after hugging it to his chest.

“Boom—”

In an instant, flesh, blood, and iron sand burst outward in radial patterns!

Warhorses and cavalrymen all around were blown into mangled pulp, screaming in terror as they plunged into chaotic disorder.

The remaining satchel charges detonated one after another, their shockwaves tearing the entire formation to shreds!

A Langrong centurion had just raised a copper-plated wooden shield when it was instantly blasted into a sky full of wooden splinters.

He stared in a daze at his right arm, which had suddenly vanished.

Before he could even feel the pain, a second wave of iron sand had blown his chest into a honeycomb of bloody holes.

It was as if a rain of blood were falling at the bottom of the valley.

Torn limbs and broken bones mixed with chunks of viscera came pattering down against the rock walls.

Surviving warhorses dragged their trailing entrails in wild flight, knocking even more of their companions tumbling down the precipice.

The thick fog was dyed pink, the pungent stench of blood mingling with the acrid smoke of gunpowder.

“Reload!” Lin Chuan’s roar snapped everyone back to reality.

The soldiers swiftly crammed the second batch of satchel charges into the barrels.

The dull, thundering sound of hooves echoed from the valley entrance.

More Langrong cavalrymen were charging over!

“Fire!”

The satchel charges from this volley traced deadly arcs across midair.

The furthest one actually flew over two hundred paces, crashing straight into the main enemy formation!

“Boom—!”

The chiliarch’s wolf-emblazoned banner was blasted to pieces amidst the fire.

The shockwave flipped over every living thing within ten zhang, several bodyguards hurled high into the air before they could even draw their sabers.

Startled warhorses dragged burning carts charging blindly into the camp; oil jars were shattered, and rivers of fire instantly swallowed half of the supply train.

“Sorcery! It’s Han sorcery!”

The Langrong men shrieked in terror.

“Xilong Garrison—Charge!”

General Chen’s roar was deafening.

In an instant, a torrent of iron armor poured downward, the sound of hooves causing loose gravel to rattle and roll.

The Langrong cavalry at the bottom of the valley fell into complete disarray.

That centurion wearing a wolf-skin cap was shouting himself hoarse, only to be knocked off balance from all sides by fleeing soldiers.

“It’s Batu of the Hachi tribe!”

A piercing light flashed in General Chen’s eyes. “Biaozi! Cut him off!”

Pang Dabiao’s armor clanked loudly as he spun his long spear into a flourishing arc: “Order received!”

He spurred his horse and led his troop charging forward.

The violent sounds of explosions reverberated deep within the valley.

Zhao Tieying, who was locked in fierce combat, brought his blade down in a heavy slash.

The long saber cleaved open the throat of a Langrong cavalryman, hot blood splashing across his entire face.

He wiped his face, narrowed his eyes, and looked toward the rear of the Langrong forces.

Billowing black smoke was rising from there, faintly carrying the shrieks of terrified horses and the agonizing screams of men.

“Reinforcements have arrived!” Zhao Tieying roared at the top of his lungs.

His surviving subordinates experienced a massive surge of morale.

The defense line, which had been on the verge of collapse, suddenly erupted with astonishing strength.

Pikes stood like a forest, saber lights flashed like snow, and they forcefully tore a gap right through the Langrong encirclement.

“Daqian sons! Follow me and charge out—!”

“Kill—!”

Over a hundred blood-drenched cavalrymen closely followed Zhao Tieying, piercing into the chaotic rear formation of the Langrong like a sharp dagger.

Their eyes were already bloodshot from slaughter; when their saber blades rolled, they seized enemy weapons; when their horses died, they charged on foot.

One soldier who had lost his right arm even clenched his reins in his teeth, wielding a looted scimitar in his left hand.

The Langrong lines were thrown into utter confusion.

The explosions in their rear left them caught between front and rear attacks, while the breakout force charging from the front fought with reckless disregard for death.

The centurion roared as he tried to reorganize his formation, only to be struck in the eye socket by a stray arrow, plunging screaming from his saddle.

“Boom—”

Another earth-shattering explosion rang out.

This time it was even closer; flying debris and iron sand rained down upon the heads of the Tatars.

A riderless warhorse galloped past, knocking over a whole cluster of Langrong archers.

Seizing the opportunity, Zhao Tieying led his men surging across the final few dozen paces.

Treading over the corpses of the enemy, they finally rendezvoused with the reinforcements.

“Old Zhao!”

Pang Dabiao used his spear to swat away a sneak-attacking Langrong warrior,

“How the hell are you still not dead? I made another wasted trip!”

“Want to collect my corpse? You’ll just have to wait!”

Zhao Tieying spat out a mouthful of bloody foam and flashed a grin, “The King of Hell thinks my killing intent is too heavy, so he won’t take me!”

In the distance, General Chen’s bodyguard banner fluttered indistinctly amidst the gunpowder smoke.

The main force of the Xilong Garrison was squeezing the living space of the Langrong from all directions.

Wherever their iron hooves passed, there was nothing left but severed limbs and broken bodies.

At the rear of the battlefield, the gunpowder smoke had yet to disperse.

Lin Chuan squatted on the ground, touching several iron barrels that had already developed cracks with a look of heartache.

“Flag Officer, this stuff doesn’t hold up well!”

Hu Dayong squatted beside him, asking cautiously, “How are we going to explain this to the General?”

“Why wouldn’t we be able to explain?” Lin Chuan glared at him. “Until we can smelt and improve the iron, these are all single-use!”

“Single-use?” Hu Dayong’s eyes widened. “You—you use them once and throw them away?”

He began counting on his fingers: “A single barrel takes thirty catties of wrought iron, plus the labor costs... how the hell much silver gets thrown away in a single battle?!”

“Are you throwing away your own silver?!” Lin Chuan suddenly broke into a grin. “We aren’t throwing them away, we’re recycling!”

“Recycling?” Hu Dayong looked confused.

Lin Chuan lowered his voice: “Just think about it, after the General uses them up, we buy them back at a low price, melt them down, and recast them—”

Hu Dayong’s mouth fell open: “Flag Officer, you mean...”

“Dammit, I accidentally discovered a way to make a fortune...”

Lin Chuan let out the thought that was on his mind without realizing it.

“Flag Officer, what did you say?” Hu Dayong asked with a blank expression.

“Nothing at all!” Realizing he had spoken out of turn, Lin Chuan quickly straightened his face. “Pack up these iron barrels and let’s go see the General.”

He stood up and patted the gunpowder dust from the hem of his robe.

Yet deep in his heart, he was already clicking away on an abacus...