Chapter 100: Victory

With dozens of reinforcements led by Captain Maroll joining the front lines, the Crow Camp’s assault was temporarily halted. The two sides engaged in fierce firing from just a few dozen meters apart. Even with reinforcements, the French forces were under fire pressure—Spencer rifles were designed precisely for such situations. Thick smoke filled the air above both sides’ positions; each shot from a rifle released a faint plume of white smoke. Soon, however, the Crow Camp’s attacks expanded beyond the Guandi Temple: “Remington riflemen, suppress the paper bridge!”

Almost at the same time, two 60-mm mortars, repositioned, also targeted the paper bridge. They fired rapidly at their designated targets: “Paper bridge, 300 meters! Rapid fire! Three shells!” Captain Maroll had no choice but to organize a final defense. Casualties kept mounting. Although the two sides were roughly equal in numbers and the French forces had a slight military advantage, the disparity in firepower caused the defenders of the Barney Temple to suffer increasingly heavy losses.

The only relief was that the enemy was on the offensive, so wounded soldiers were pulled back as much as possible, while the French wounded had to hold their positions at the front lines. Yet Captain Maroll knew well that this stalemate was not in their favor. Only one company or small battalion of the Black Flag Army was currently in battle, with reinforcements likely to arrive at any moment. At the thought of reinforcements, he glanced back—the Black Flag Army was using rifles and mortars to blockade the paper bridge, turning it into a blood-soaked path. Those who tried to cross it were pinned down by fire and unable to come to their aid.

Seeing this, Captain Maroll, the assistant commander, realized he faced a difficult decision. But the next moment, he ordered loudly, “Get the wounded up! Get them back into battle!”

Inside the Barney Temple, there were still thirty or forty lightly and seriously wounded French soldiers lying on the ground, groaning as they watched the gunfire, falling mortar shells, and stray bullets that could take their lives at any moment. Yet Captain Maroll still saw no reinforcements. “Get the seriously wounded to fight too!” It wasn’t a humane solution, but it was his only hope for reinforcements. “God, have mercy on me—this is the only thing we can do.”

He could clearly see that on the other side of the paper bridge, the Black Flag Army was closing in, while the French forces were in full retreat. The paper bridge was their only escape route. “Hold the Barney Temple! Get the wounded to fight!”

Most of the wounded still carried their rifles. Enduring severe pain, they were pushed back to the front lines to fire at the Black Flag Army. “Captain Maroll, you should award us medals!”

The involvement of dozens of wounded soldiers intensified the battle. One mortar operator was wounded, after which all fire was directed at the Guandi Temple and the nearby hills. From Ye Chenglin’s position, he could clearly see more troops arriving, but he wasn’t anxious at all. “Good work—hold them off. We still have reinforcements!”

Indeed, the entire Xiliu Camp had enough reinforcements to join the battle. Only one reinforced infantry company was currently fighting—there were twelve such companies in total.

The shift in fire from Camp Crow caused the paper bridge to become overcrowded, like a floodgate. Everyone knew the battle was lost, and their only hope was to retreat to the French concession in Hanoi via the Banh Mi Temple.
A dozen French infantrymen pushed a cannon straight up to the hills of the Banh Mi Temple: “Marol, I’ve brought the Hotchkiss to support you!”
What they were pushing was precisely the Hotchkiss 5-barreled automatic cannon that Captain Marol had once abandoned. This 37-mm automatic cannon had astonishing destructive power, capable of tearing even torpedo boats to pieces under its fire.
Captain Marol frowned. “Are there gunners?”
“No artillery? Who are the gunners?”
Although this 5-barreled automatic cannon didn’t provide any help to the defenders, the involvement of those dozen French infantrymen strengthened the front line.
Some French soldiers glanced at the Banh Mi Temple before rushing along the road through the hail of fire toward Hanoi. Most of them were native infantry, while most of the French who crossed the paper bridge voluntarily joined this battle destined to cost heavy sacrifices.
Just as Captain Marol thought the battle would settle into a stalemate, he heard his soldiers gasp: “The enemy!”
He looked up and was stunned by the spectacular sight—so many enemies.
In front of him was the entire main force of the Xiliu Infantry Regiment, over two thousand soldiers spreading out in a skirmish line to encircle them. Dressed in imposing uniforms and armed with powerful seven-shot rifles, they charged at the Banh Mi Temple in waves, company after company.
Liu Yu, staring at his target, rode his horse and shouted, “Target! Guandi Temple! Charge!”
He personally spurred his horse into a trot, and the entire Xiliu Infantry Regiment let out a roar.
“Mortars! Guandi Temple! Fire rapidly! Now!”
Faster than the enemy’s reinforcements arrived were the mortars of Camp Xiliu. Six mortars and two 82-mm mortars quickly took up positions and began firing at full speed.
Mortar shells fell every second, covering both the Guandi Temple and the small hills in a rain of projectiles. Each shell carried countless shrapnel, and explosions occurred constantly. Even those standing near the Guandi Temple would go temporarily deaf from the continuous gunfire, turning the entire French position into a terrifying stronghold inaccessible to outsiders.
Under such intense bombardment, even the front-line infantry of Camp Crow retreated dozens of meters to avoid accidental casualties.
After a minute of relentless bombardment, the entire Xiliu Infantry Regiment had closed in on the Guandi Temple. Seizing this place would allow them to trap and annihilate the entire Li Weiyeh’s force.
The officers shouted orders to their troops: “Infantry! Prepare!”
Yet they thought that under such heavy artillery fire, a company-sized position that had taken in nearly a hundred shells would have few survivors. But before the smoke cleared, they clearly saw that quite a number of enemies were still holding the Guandi Temple position.
Captain Marol immediately roared, “Lieutenant!”
“Captain!”

“Go to the road and tell every French soldier who passes by to return to Hanoi as soon as possible. Our sacrifices at the Banier Temple are enough—let our soldiers go home alive!”
With that, Captain Marol shouted loudly, “Frenchmen, native infantry! Our sacrifices are not in vain—let our comrades go home!”
At that moment, the dozen or so remaining soldiers, many of them severely wounded, roared, “Let our comrades go home! Fight!”
Across from them, Sima Tai already spotted the major target on the enemy’s position: “Xiliu Camp, seize the enemy’s artillery!”
That Hotchkiss machine gun had no operator; its ammunition boxes were simply placed nearby. “Xiliu Camp! The artillery!”
A bloodied lieutenant stood by the roadside, with rows of French soldiers pouring over from the paper bridge in front of him. Their formation had been disrupted, and the few remaining officers and sergeants were struggling to direct their troops toward the Banier Temple.
They were in a terrible state—their dark blue uniforms and red breeches covered in dust, their uniforms torn in many places—but they continued onward toward the Banier Temple after crossing the paper bridge!
The wounded lieutenant shouted at them, “Soldiers! Go home! Return to Hanoi! We’ve lost this battle, but…”
“Volunteers, follow me and hold off the Black Flag Army for our comrades—your sacrifices won’t be in vain!”
Almost immediately, he turned and rushed toward the Banier Temple, followed by six or seven French soldiers and four or five native infantrymen. The rest of the French troops fled toward Hanoi.
That was the Banier Temple, the place where Lieutenant Banier had died heroically ten years earlier.
The Black Flag Army called it the Guandi Temple—it was the site of the fiercest battles. Even a whole infantry regiment attacking such a position under artillery fire still faced extremely tenacious resistance from the French, especially near the five-barrel Hotchkiss machine gun, where both sides engaged in fierce hand-to-hand combat.
The Black Flag Army, armed with shovels and bayonets, and the French soldiers with their bayonets, had been fighting hand-to-hand for minutes, with over twenty dead and wounded on each side, yet neither side could advance.
“Captain, I’m back!”
The lieutenant led a dozen soldiers armed with bayonets into the most intense part of the battle, colliding with a platoon of the Black Flag Army rushing from the opposite side.
On the paper bridge, rows of French soldiers were crossing this bloody path, with people shouting from time to time, “Take them back to Hanoi, volunteers! Follow me!”
Captain Marol was covered in blood. There were hundreds of Black Flag soldiers, but his men fought to the last moment—using rifles, bayonets, their hands, and even their teeth. All he could do was raise his revolver in a final act of defiance: “Captain Marol dies at his post!”
But their efforts only caused considerable trouble for the Xiliu Infantry Regiment. After twenty minutes of fighting, a double-leaf willow flag was raised over the Guandi Temple. Sima Tai stood beside the machine gun and ordered loudly, “Mortars, fire! Don’t spare a single one!”

On their roads, the French infantry had completely collapsed; they crossed the fire lines in groups of three or five. Although the Black Flag Army held back their advance with mortar fire and Remington rifles from behind, they still bravely made it through the fire lines.
“Artillery! Fire in unison!” Sima Tai was the second to launch the attack, but it was his Xiliu Camp that first seized the Guandi Temple: “Remingtons, fire! Liu Suiyun’s company, seize the Paper Bridge immediately and block it!”
As the oldest unit within the entire Xiliu Infantry Regiment, Xiliu Camp possessed astonishing combat strength. Almost simultaneously, the 60mm mortars in the camp exploded above the Paper Bridge.
The bridge was packed with people; every shell caused massive casualties. Yet each explosion only made the crowd on the bridge even denser. French and indigenous infantry kept trying to cross it.
It was a tragic scene—French troops were crushed from all sides, with mortar shells falling overhead, over a hundred rifles from Liu Suiyun’s company firing at them, and more troops pressing in from behind. Every inch was crowded with people, yet every inch was filled with deadly shrapnel.
Cries and groans filled the air; people stepped over corpses and moved forward involuntarily. Those in front couldn’t retreat, and some jumped off the bridge into the dried riverbed, dying instantly.
Even those French troops who had escaped the Guandi Temple found themselves trapped in a hail of fire. But at least they were lucky.
On the other side of the Paper Bridge, hundreds more French infantrymen were fighting a final stand. Their opponents weren’t the powerful Xiliu Infantry Camp but the relatively weaker three battalions of the Black Flag Army, with only two-thirds the strength and far fewer firearms.
Thus, the battle was especially bloody. When the French realized they couldn’t cross the Paper Bridge, their remaining troops fought desperately. Such resistance would have been extremely difficult even for the Xiliu Infantry Regiment, let alone the weaker Black Flag Army battalions.
Colonel Li Weiyeh held a cane in his left hand and a pistol in his right. Not only had he been shot in the shoulder, but he also had fatal metal bullets in his chest and legs.
Around him were officers whose names he could clearly recall, but they had all died honorably in battle. A few surviving soldiers tried to help him retreat, but the blood-soaked Colonel Li shook his head. “I will die here! I must bear the responsibility for this defeat!”
Already critically wounded, he refused help, overwhelmed by his fatal injuries and the shame of defeat. “Retreat! Find a way back to Hanoi. I can’t take you home, but I can hold them off for a while!”
He lay on the ground, gripping his pistol tightly.
Groups of Black Flag Army soldiers, armed with the newly captured Type 1878 rifles, charged toward them.
He raised his hand.
……
Liu Yu stood on top of the Guandi Temple, witnessing the most brutal part of the battle. There were hundreds of French corpses in their dark blue uniforms, plus the losses among the indigenous infantry. Nearly two hundred French soldiers had died in this small-scale battle.

To capture the Guandi Temple position, the Xiliu Infantry Regiment also paid a heavy price. But once Guandi Temple was lost and Zhiqiao was blocked, this ambush battle was already over.
Zhiqiao witnessed equally tragic scenes, with at least a hundred people dying there. Liu Yu glanced at it and said, “I believe the French will call this bridge the Bridge of Blood in the future!”
The sun had just risen; it was 6:30 in the morning. In less than an hour, the battle was over. On the other side of Zhiqiao, the Black Flag Army was fighting a final desperate battle against the French forces, a fight that would likely last for a long time.
Sima Tai stood beside Liu Yu and proudly answered his question, “I believe the French will remember this place—Guandi Temple and Zhiqiao. This is just the first victory for the Xiliu Camp.”
Liu Yu, however, said meaningfully, “A kind person should not command troops!”
……
A kind person should not command troops.
The battle to eliminate the remaining French forces on the other side of Zhiqiao was more difficult than Liu Yu had expected. At 7:30, when it became clear the battle wasn’t over yet, Liu Yu’s Hanhai Camp joined in the cleanup operation.
But the battle didn’t fully end until 9:00 in the morning. Aside from a few who escaped, Cai Yunnan reported the situation over the phone at 9:00, “The French forces led by Li Weiyeh have been completely annihilated!”
On the other side, everyone carefully cleared the battlefield—prisoners, remaining resistance points, and supplies were all targets for the various troops.
After all, this force had set out with three of the most advanced cannons, 700 rifles, and a large amount of supplies. Each camp wanted to seize as many spoils as possible, especially more rifles—even if there was a shortage of ammunition, that wasn’t a problem.
The Xiliu Infantry Regiment reaped the most benefits, capturing 400 rifles alone and two cannons. The other two camps also returned heavily laden.
Huaidefu.
“Li Weiyeh’s forces have been completely wiped out!”
Tang Jingsong congratulated him with a smile, “Brother Yuanting, this is an extraordinary achievement, comparable to Yao Ying’s remarkable feats of defeating the British forces during the Opium Wars.”
By Yao Ying, he meant Yao Ying, the military governor of Taiwan during the Opium Wars. The Qing army was undefeated in those wars, except for Yao Ying, who defeated the British three times in Taiwan, capturing and killing large numbers of them. Though he was imprisoned under British pressure after the war, everyone in the Qing dynasty recognized his extraordinary achievements in Taiwan. Liu Yongfu smiled and said, “Too kind of you! With just this one victory, I can march on Hanoi and settle the matter in one battle.”
Tang Jingsong also compared himself to Chen Tang and Fu Zijie, saying, “Yuanting, this is excellent.”
Liu Yongfu, however, was concerned about another matter: “I wonder what the damage to the various camps is. No report has come in yet. Hmm… Do you think it’s inappropriate to form new camps?”
“With our seven Black Flag camps capable of taking Hanoi, there’s no need to recruit more troops and waste military funds. Besides, we already have as many as four camps.”
Liu Yu was working on his comprehensive mobilization plan, while Liu Yongfu also had plans to expand his forces. But he faced more restrictions than Liu Yu—there was no guarantee for troops, funds, or weapons.
After some thought, Liu Yongfu shook his head and said, “Lord Tang, I think expansion is necessary. I…”

He had saved up over the years, but now he could only use that money as public funds: “For troops and weapons, we still need Lord Tang’s help. Since we’re expanding to four battalions, it might be better to set up three smaller battalions for now.”
Seeing Liu Yongfu yielding to him, Tang Jingsong immediately brought up another matter: “The main battalion already has a thousand men. I always thought that wasn’t right, so I believe it’s best to divide it into a main battalion and a deputy battalion.”
He had gotten along very well with Huang Shouzhong during this time, and because of that, he also fought for interests on behalf of the main battalion. Liu Yongfu immediately nodded: “That works too!”
It was the result of an exchange of interests, but he still wanted to ask: “If we march on Hanoi, can the lords of Beining provide assistance? Even if they can’t lend troops, lending guns and cannons would be helpful.”
Liu Yu was also planning to march on Hanoi: “Gentlemen, everything is settled. Next, we’ll march on Hanoi!”
His base was in Shanxi, too close to Hanoi. Now that Li Weiyi’s forces had been largely wiped out, it was the perfect opportunity to march on Hanoi.
Just as everyone was in high spirits, Su Sui, the second-in-command of the Flower Sect, rushed over urgently: “Commander Liu, the sect leader sent me with an urgent message.”
When Liu Yu opened the letter, his expression changed drastically.
After five years of planning to seize Hanoi in one battle, he never expected such a turn of events.