Chapter 111: Decisive Victory

“There’s no need to deliberately take prisoners!” Sima Tai repeated to his officers. “Ahead is an entire company of native infantry from Nam Ky, along with a French infantry platoon. Their fortifications are solid, they’re extremely stubborn, and they have support from the enemy’s main forces. But remember—we are the Xiliu Camp!”

With this fierce shout, the entire Black Flag Army launched a storm of artillery fire. The once calm front line instantly became a sea of flames. Fifty-four cannons, ranging from the most advanced mortars to the heaviest cast-iron smoothbore guns, poured shells at the fortress. Snipers and the light weapons of various companies fired simultaneously, aiming to suppress every gun emplacement on the fortress.

At the exact moment the triggers were pulled, two teams of demolition experts were already there. They carried 15-kilogram explosive packs, while others brought 4-kilogram smaller bombs. They leaped out almost at the same time as the shells.

The proud native infantry of Annam were caught in a relentless barrage of artillery fire. On the top of the fortress, the exposed soldiers became easy targets for mortar shells. Countless shrapnel fragments tore through their bodies, and many more soldiers collapsed under rifle fire.

The Kingdom of Nguyen never expected that the Black Flag Army, which should have been retreating, still had the strength to launch an attack. Moreover, they hardly concealed their intentions—launching attacks from only one direction while concentrating all their firepower on that spot.

The density of fire was so intense that the rope binding Zhang Fei Mao shook violently. Missed rifle bullets pierced his body again, followed by a solid projectile that slammed his corpse hard against the fortress wall. Finally, a mortar shell exploded on the wall, sending almost all the shrapnel onto him.

The parapet offered no protection for the native soldiers. Since the top of the bunker had no roof, mortar shells could wreak havoc among the crowd. Nguyen seemed to see his own doom and shouted, “Quick! Ask the French lords for help! There’s a platoon of Frenchmen here—they won’t abandon this place!”

The French also began to support the battle with artillery fire. But almost as soon as Nguyen finished speaking, a powerful shockwave nearly knocked him to the ground. Looking closely, he saw that two huge gaps had opened in his fortress, each over a meter wide, tearing from the top all the way to the bottom.

Zhang Fei Mao’s body was buried under the debris from this massive explosion. Now, the rubble formed a slope, allowing infantry to easily climb up. He felt utterly distraught and shouted, “Hold on!”

It was the result of two demolition teams from the Black Flag Army using 15-kilogram and 4-kilogram explosive packs in sequence, tearing two huge gaps in the fortress and exposing its interior completely to the attackers.

“Xiliu Camp!”

Without any need for extra words, the vanguard company of the Xiliu Camp charged forward. The deployment of their entire force could be described as artistic—Sima Tai controlled it with perfect precision, and the whole unit moved like a clockwork mechanism, without the slightest deviation.

Captain Bisselle immediately saw the distress signals sent by Nguyen’s forces. He also saw that the fortress held by Nguyen’s troops was engulfed in flames. He shouted orders, “Prepare an infantry company to launch a counterattack at any moment. Artillery, get ready! Once the enemy takes control of the fortress, launch a fierce artillery barrage immediately!”
As a captain, he shouldn’t have had to bear such heavy responsibility, but he had no choice. Among all the middle-ranking officers, he was practically the only one still alive from the entire battle—everyone else was either dead or injured.
Dressed in brand-new military uniforms, he stood amid piles of corpses. No one challenged his command, because every French officer knew no one could do better than him.
A lieutenant colonel and two majors arrived by boat in Hanoi, but none of them wanted to take command from Captain Bisselle. The sight of corpses and wounded soldiers made it clear just how bad the situation was.
“Launch a fierce artillery barrage immediately!” Captain Bisselle made the painful decision. “Now!”
The artillerymen understood what he meant: launch indiscriminate fire while the Black Flag Army was still unsteady, to kill the advancing enemy forces. As for the French infantry company preparing to counterattack, it was nothing but a decoy—but if the Black Flag Army performed poorly, he wasn’t afraid to turn that feeble counterattack into a determined assault.
“The situation has reached such a dire level? There’s an entire platoon of French soldiers up there!” The lieutenant colonel was bewildered. “Just a platoon?”
“Lieutenant colonel, it’s even worse than you think. Our enemy is powerful. We can’t afford any mistakes—there must be no mercy!” Captain Bisselle didn’t elaborate further. He fixed his gaze on the battlefield. “This is war!”
As a veteran of the Franco-Prussian War, his gaze was firm and resolute. Even after days of non-stop fighting, his fighting spirit remained unshaken. He stood among the corpses, watching the battlefield.
The Black Flag Army’s artillery began to shift its focus, firing deeper into French positions to suppress any troops attempting to reinforce them. They struck down any object providing fire support with relentless force, forcing the French artillery to engage in a bombardment battle.
The artillery duel was long and tedious, but necessary. Most artillerymen stopped supporting the fortress, and Nguyen’s forces atop it realized their doom seemed imminent.
The enemy troops, like ants, surged forward. Dressed in grass-green uniforms, they looked terrifying, like demons. At the start of the battle, nearly half of his own men had already been killed, and they had already broken into the fortress, fighting room by room.
The Xiliu Camp didn’t target the top of the fortress first. Instead, they used the broken slope to launch their assault. Any troops that tried to block their advance were eliminated with bayonets, shovels, and grenades.
He could hear his men shouting for help, the sounds of explosions, and the Black Flag Army’s celebrations. He knew if things continued like this, he would surely be destroyed.
“Charge! Go ahead!” He used his pistol to urge his men forward. “There’s a big reward!”

He still felt that he had a chance to fight, after all, at the start of the battle, there were 200 men inside his fortress, including 37 Frenchmen. Most of the troops were experienced Annamese infantry—the strongest among all indigenous infantry forces. Moreover, learning from historical lessons, the French did not engage directly in combat but positioned their troops in the rear, so those 37 French soldiers had not suffered any casualties yet, and this was the last hope of the Nguyễn kingdom. But the men charging to the top didn’t care about anything; most of them were equipped with Spencer rifles. In close combat, both sides had only one chance to fire, giving their Spencer rifles a decisive firepower advantage. The Annamese infantry charging forward were either killed or wounded, while the Xiliu Camp showed no regard for morality—they killed anyone they saw and shot at any target they encountered. The Annamese infantry at the top, despite having the advantage, saw their morale crumble under the firepower and began retreating, prompting Liu Haohao to fire mercilessly at their backs. “French friends! Come to our aid quickly!” The Nguyễn kingdom had placed all its hopes on its French allies. “Without reinforcements, we have no hope. Please come quickly!” As he shouted, the French finally emerged from their anti-artillery shelters, ready to launch a counterattack. Those 37 French soldiers were fresh reinforcements from Cochinchina, full of morale, so they had no real idea of the Xiliu Camp’s combat strength. All they knew was, “We can win easily!” The top of the fortress wasn’t spacious, and the soldiers on both sides were very close together—such a target was ideal. The French platoon leader loudly ordered, “Frenchmen! Fire! Charge with bayonets!” It was the simplest form of attack, but since Napoleon’s time, they had used brave bayonet charges and determined assaults to defeat barbarians time and again. They had already seen these Eastern barbarians clearly—they had nothing special about them. Although the enemy had some breech-loading rifles, their own forces were equipped with the best rifles. They believed that no other rifles could compare to those from 1878. And their soldiers were equally excellent. The enemy’s forces were comparable to theirs, and they still had the support of dozens of Annamese infantrymen. If they couldn’t win this battle, everyone would have to hang themselves. The two sides were very close, firing almost at each other’s chests. The French were convinced that the enemy forces would collapse after the gunfight, after all, they only had some old-fashioned rifles. “Bang!” Almost immediately, the infantry of both sides collided. The French soon paid a heavy price for their carelessness—engaging in close-quarters gunfights against the enemy equipped with repeating rifles was the worst possible choice. In such situations, the Black Flag Army’s seven-shot Spencer rifles were as powerful as machine guns, while the enemy seemed to be fighting back with semi-automatic rifles. By the time the Black Flag Army ran out of ammunition, nearly half of the 30-plus French soldiers were dead or wounded, yet they still held firm in their confidence.

Bayonet combat! This was what those Eastern troops feared the most. They could hold their ground under a hail of bullets, but once engaged in close combat, they would immediately collapse. The French men were not afraid of such battles; even wounded soldiers were determined to take part in this glorious close combat.
“Bayonets!”
“Xiliu Camp!”
The soldiers on both sides clashed again. Neither side expected the other to be so strong, and thus they engaged in fierce hand-to-hand fighting.
It had to be admitted that the French soldiers were indeed among the best-quality infantry in the world—firm and strong. Even if defeated, they would regroup and launch a counterattack. Many fell in the first minute of close combat, but both sides continued to fight.
A single row of French infantry could be more effective than an entire company of native infantry, but due to their carelessness, they were now surrounded by Xiliu Camp.
Captain Bisselle raised his hand, and a full French infantry company took formation and charged toward the fortress, ready to launch a counterattack. Meanwhile, the French artillery, caught in the artillery duel, was now determined to deliver their most intense bombardment.
The lieutenant colonel watched as a fortress with only 200 defenders fell into danger so easily and deeply understood Captain Bisselle’s feelings. “Captain, I understand your feelings! Why haven’t you fired yet?”
Seeing one after another fall in the fortress, seeing the deep blue uniforms sacrificed one after another, Captain Bisselle felt heartbroken. “Let them die gloriously, not under our artillery!”
Thirty-seven French soldiers were all killed in just five minutes, and the remaining Annamese native infantry were utterly helpless. Captain Bisselle raised his hand: “Fire!”
The sound of artillery roared as steel exerted its greatest advantage on the battlefield. But at that moment, Captain Bisselle clenched his fist. “Damn those bastards!”
Almost as soon as the French artillery prepared to bombard the infantry, the mortars of Xiliu Camp had already fulfilled their goal. All the mortars shifted their aim and fired at the advancing French infantry company.
Such long-range bombardment was difficult to master and execute, but since Xiliu Camp was equipped with enough magnetic telephones, 60mm and 82mm mortars could adjust their trajectories under the real-time guidance of observers. They only needed two rounds of firing to locate those soldiers in blue uniforms and red breeches.
Mortar shells rained down, tearing a huge gap in the French troops’ orderly formation. The once-perfect ranks were now shattered. Countless shrapnel ravaged the streets, killing any living thing. Despite the heavy artillery fire, the French soldiers continued to march forward firmly.
But it was pointless. The artillery fire once again struck the already shattered ranks. Captain Bisselle shouted loudly, “Take cover! Take cover now!”
Only after receiving clear orders did the remaining soldiers jump to the sides, searching for places to hide from the shells. Yet the artillery continued to cause heavy casualties.

As for the French artillery, they lost all initiative under these circumstances. They could only fire at full speed in an attempt to suppress the artillery of the Xiliu Camp, but this was almost impossible. Many mortars were positioned in locations they couldn’t see at all, firing shells with extremely curved trajectories at the French infantry.

The battle atop the fortress also decided the outcome, with the French becoming the biggest losers. Apart from sporadic gunshots, the entire fortress fell silent, and a double-leaf Xiliu flag was hung on its top. That was the Xiliu Camp—a force worthy of reliance at any time.

A strong position with 200 elite defenders, including a platoon of French infantry, only held out for half an hour under the fierce attack of the Black Flag Army. The lieutenant colonel had to admit that Captain Bissel’s decision had been wise.

Yet he still glanced at the streets piled with corpses. That counterattack had been a complete failure—a company of 110 men had collapsed under intense artillery fire, and now only 50 remained capable of fighting. In just a few rounds of artillery fire, the company had lost over half of its men. Although the mortar shells were not extremely powerful and many were only severely injured—juries that wouldn’t be fatal with sufficient support—the fact itself was terrifying enough.

It should be noted that the number of French troops who landed in Hanoi as reinforcements was only 500. Just five or six such battles would deplete them completely.

Captain Bissel’s next words reassured him: “This is an extreme situation. Most of the time, we face many enemies who are strong, but the French men are even stronger.”

The lieutenant colonel asked another question, “Can we hold on?”

“It depends on when the next wave of reinforcements arrives. But sir, I firmly believe I can hold Hanoi!” With these 500 reinforcements, he knew clearly that this battle was coming to an end. “They can’t afford to keep fighting!”

As long as the French stayed in defensive positions, the Xiliu Camp and the Black Flag Army, though having many tactics, would have to pay a heavy price. Moreover, the French could easily receive reinforcements by water. If another group of five or six hundred men arrived, the situation might change.

Thus, Liu Yu also considered this the first battle marking the beginning of the end. But before that, there was one more thing to do.

Nguyen Quoc was almost the only survivor in the entire fortress—not because Liu Yu wanted to spare his life, but because the Xiliu Camp still had uses for him. He was lifted up by the fierce Xiliu Camp infantry and placed against the wall like a fat cat.

“Vietnamese sons and daughters, I have always held great goodwill toward you, but such goodwill isn’t cost-free. I too have my own bottom line!”

Nguyen Quoc was someone who had crossed Liu Yu’s bottom line. Dozens of fierce Xiliu Camp infantry members, just like they had dealt with Zhang Fei Mao atop the fortress, swung their shovels at him. Blood gushed forth, followed by Spins’s continuous firing—a whole round of bullets—before his neck was hung from a rope and he was dropped.

The infantry of the Xiliu Camp had already prepared a small explosive pack for him. Shortly after it was dropped, he was blown to pieces, and even a large gap appeared in the fortress.
“For those who cross my limits, all I can do is fight back with the same force, with blood for blood!”
Liu Yu’s declaration sent chills down the spines of those native infantrymen; even the French realized they had dealt with an extremely formidable enemy.
They saw three flags: one with a black raven, another with two leaves, and one they couldn’t understand. But all the flags featured two willow leaves, and they remembered this symbol.
They feared such a powerful and terrifying enemy.
Heinan was trembling!