Chapter 43: Fierce Battle (Part 2)

Xiliu Camp had been waiting for Zhang Biao’s order. In that instant, their eyes locked onto their pre-selected targets, fingers tightened on the triggers. The recoil shook their shoulders as orange flames and white smoke erupted from the gun muzzles. Shell casings scattered across the ground, and deadly bullets turned the paddy fields into a deadly hell.

It was only then that Lao Long realized what it meant for bullets to rain down like hail. His ears were filled with countless sharp whistles as bullets pierced their own ranks in straight trajectories. What had already been a disorganized formation became even more chaotic. Lao Long had no idea how many were dead or injured; he only saw two of his comrades fall with a thud, followed by cries of pain all around him.

He forgot the feeling of his feet sinking into the mud, and the intense pain in his shoulder was overshadowed by the fierce fighting. He even forgot another gunshot as he desperately led his troops forward, shouting, “Charge! It’s our Yellow Flag Army that will leave its name in history!”

Inspired by his words, the entire Yellow Flag Army charged into the paddy fields with astonishing courage despite the hail of bullets. But at that moment, Lao Long felt another severe pain and could hold on no longer, collapsing backward. He could feel bullets piercing his body—seemingly not just one, but three or four Spencer bullets ravaging his flesh.

He fell into the water with a thud. Now he could hear more clearly—not only the roar of bullets but also heavy footsteps, the shriek of Spencer bullets hitting flesh, and the agonized screams of the wounded. He collapsed in the water, letting out a pained scream, forgetting his original goal of leaving the Yellow Flag Army’s name in history. Meanwhile, a soldier from the Yellow Flag Army stepped over his body and rushed toward the outpost.

Seeing that stubborn enemy leader finally fall after being hit by five bullets, Zhang Biao felt a hint of respect, but mostly anxiety. The Yellow Flag Army wasn’t daunted by the machine gun fire; they kept charging forward, one after another, across the paddy fields.

The Yellow Flag Army was fighting desperately. The Spencer guns used pistol bullets, which were less powerful, so even after being hit once, several soldiers kept charging forward despite bleeding profusely, only falling after being hit three or four times.

Worse still, even though they were within range, their movement and poor visibility due to the dim light reduced the accuracy of the rifles. So far, the Yellow Flag Army’s casualties were far fewer than he had expected.

The mud in the paddy fields couldn’t stop them. The first three assault teams had already been decimated by the machine gun fire, but two more teams of the Yellow Flag Army were still charging in.

He also shouted fiercely, “Remington, target the advancing infantry!”

The Yellow Flag Army hadn’t expected such heavy losses. The first three assault teams were now reduced to just a dozen men by the machine gun fire. Especially Lao Long’s team—originally over twenty men—was now down to just three or four.

The volley guns formed a veritable wall of fire. In the paddy fields, soldiers of the Yellow Flag Army lay dead and wounded in great numbers. The once clear water was now completely red with blood, forcing them to advance over corpses and the injured.

Qiao Erchi was so anxious that he wanted to charge holding the flag, but suddenly heard the gunfire from the Xiliu Camp pause. The artillery, previously tightly suppressed by Remington, seized this opportunity to take up positions and prepare to fire at the outposts. It was time for them to reload!

At this thought, the entire Yellow Flag Army spontaneously cheered. Even the wounded lying in the paddy fields had some cover their mouths with their fingers, afraid their cries might disrupt the advance of those behind them.

“They’re reloading! Charge!”

Two squads of the Yellow Flag Army had already crossed half of the paddy field. As they ran, they fired at the Black Flag Army, while the rest of the troops rushed in in a scattered formation.

“Charge and engage in close combat—seize their rapid-fire guns!”

The morale of the Yellow Flag Army soared as they rushed forward. They knew full well that the volley guns of the Black Flag Army couldn’t be charged with bayonets; up close, they were like toothless tigers. But even faster than them was a solid cannonball, which, accompanied by thick plumes of white smoke, sent the cannon barrel recoiling several steps back. The cannonball struck the paddy field in front of the mud wall, splashing water everywhere.

Then two more cannons fired. They didn’t use shrapnel shells; instead, the solid projectiles flew high over the outposts and landed in the Red River behind them.

Yet these three cannonshots were enough to boost the morale of the Yellow Flag Army to astonishing levels. Ignoring the sporadic rifle fire, they charged forward with various weapons, led by numerous flags. They practically surged across the paddy field.

Zhang Biao watched this spectacular scene and shouted loudly, “Fast! Fast! Fast!”

The formation became much denser, but the infantry, who had just loaded seven bullets each, found that the vanguard of the Yellow Flag Army had already crossed most of the paddy field, and they could even clearly see their faces.

Fire! Without orders, they skillfully fired Spencer bullets, causing even more devastating casualties than the first volley.

In front of the mud wall lay a wall of fire. Zhang Biao had thought that no force could penetrate such a barrage. But he was wrong—the dense fire only forced the Yellow Flag Army to cross half of the paddy field. No! Another thirty or forty men fell in the first twenty meters, their bodies covering the ground once more. Yet the Yellow Flag Army quickly filled every inch of space.

Meanwhile, every Spencer gun in the Xiliu Camp had run out of bullets, while Remington continued firing at a seemingly slow pace.

The Yellow Flag Army also began to return fire, shooting at the mud wall while running, armed with various weapons. Thanks to the cover of the mud wall, the Xiliu Camp suffered almost no casualties—only two men were hit and ordered to retreat to the rear under each other’s support.

This massive enemy force had once again broken through the middle line of the paddy field, their morale even higher.

They charged forward desperately. Zhang Biao could see clearly their terrifying faces. Behind them, the Huangqi Army’s artillerymen were shouting loudly, cleaning the gun barrels with wool brushes, preparing for another round of firing. They soon reached the mud wall, just as the Xiliu Camp finished loading its guns for that round. What to do? Zhang Biao had to make a decision.