Chapter 16: Victory or Defeat (Part 1)

The street a few hundred meters from the city gates was now deserted, having turned into a fierce battlefield.
“Fight back! Fight back!” Several military commanders shouted frantically, urging the hastily assembled remnants of their troops: “Fight our way back to the armory!”
But what met them were bursts of gunfire. On their side were just over a dozen men led by Ji Xinghui, while they had gathered more than a hundred men and launched three attacks, only to be driven back by the musket fire.
Under the two large flags about 300 meters away, the defeated Vietnamese troops regrouped. A few leaders shouted loudly, “Charge! There’s a big reward waiting for us!”
They couldn’t help but feel anxious. There were only a dozen or so fierce bandits, yet after three attacks, they were driven back before even reaching the barricades. Yet these bandits held a strategic position, and if reinforcements arrived, the powder store behind them might fall into their hands.
On Ji Xinghui’s side, the fighting grew more intense. They used wooden planks and other materials to build barricades, hiding behind them to fire volleys of shots. First, Ji Xinghui used his Minie guns from a distance, and once the Vietnamese troops came within range of muskets, another volley sent them fleeing. Only a few managed to reach the front of the barricades, but Ji Xinghui led his men in close combat, and the Vietnamese troops collapsed again.
In front of the barricades, only about a dozen corpses remained. Ji Xinghui was full of confidence: “Don’t let them get the upper hand!”
“Whole army! Advance toward the sound of gunfire!”
Under Liu Yu’s leadership, aside from Jiang Ningxue leading about twenty gunmen to guard the city gates, the rest of the main force rushed forward following Liu Yu’s lead: “Why isn’t there a single person in sight?”
Along the several hundred meters of road, aside from trembling civilians, not a single military officer dared to resist. So far, the Spencer gunmen hadn’t fired a single shot.
They were eager to showcase the power of their volley fire on the battlefield.
Yet they were also worried—could the military forces be gathering somewhere to launch a counterattack?
Under the two large flags, over a hundred Vietnamese troops regrouped after another volley of gunfire. They had attacked five times, but each time they fled after losing two or three men to the gunfire.
“Idiots! Charge desperately!” Frustrated by this situation, the leaders could only stamp their feet in anger.
After all, they were just farmers who hadn’t even learned how to shoot properly. All they could do was urge them on: “Charge! Each of you gets a year off work and a reward of ten taels of silver!”
But after several failures, these blue-clad soldiers were terrified under the gunfire and couldn’t take more than a few steps before freezing in place. Finally, one of the leaders shouted excitedly, “Reinforcements are coming!”
Zheng Song glared angrily at these worthless allies. Over a hundred men had failed to take down just a dozen bandits guarding the barricades and had suffered many losses. Meanwhile, over a hundred allies on the other side were cheering, their morale boosted, hoping for real help.
Zheng Song’s two hundred soldiers were arguably the best troops in the entire Haiyang City. Two-thirds of them were equipped with various types of foreign guns—smoothbore, rifled, Minie-style, and even a dozen backdoor guns. This could be considered Governor Fan Fushu’s strongest personal guard.

But the enemy could set up barricades and even have Minie rifles; with just 200 men attacking, they would likely suffer heavy losses.
“Load bayonets!”
Compared to muskets that couldn’t be equipped with bayonets, hundreds of sharp bayonets mounted on the rifles boosted the morale of the Vietnamese troops, who erupted into sharp cheers.
“Ready…”
The over a hundred soldiers were ready to make way, covering the flanks for Deputy Commander Zheng.
Zheng Song ordered, “Bayonets! Drive them forward!”
“Kill! Charge forward!” His personal guards, wielding sharp bayonets, used their deadly rifles to push back those trying to retreat: “Anyone who dares to flee will be executed on the spot!”
Realizing their allies had suddenly turned into a deadly force, these soldiers were desperate but had no other choice but to move forward under the bayonets.
“Kill! Kill!”
With a shrill cry, they charged forward recklessly under the lead of two large flags, followed by Zheng Song’s 200 elite soldiers.
“Bang!” Hidden in the barricade, Ji Xinghui fired a shot swiftly, knocking down a soldier from the enemy force, but even more soldiers rushed forward.
“Fire!”
A volley of shots greeted them, knocking down three or four more, but thinking of the bayoneted troops behind them, the enemy soldiers charged even harder.
Ji Xinghui led his men to load and fire desperately; he personally knocked down two enemy soldiers, but after two rounds of firing, the desperate soldiers had reached the barricade.
“Follow me!” Without time to reload, Ji Xinghui rushed forward with his bayoneted rifle, knocking down one enemy and then hitting another with the butt of his rifle.
His men were no slouches either—veterans with years of combat experience, they charged in with various weapons, resulting in a bloody struggle at the barricade.
These peasants could handle shooting from a distance, and they dared to charge forward despite the gunfire, but true close combat was beyond their capacity. Coupled with repeated failures at this barricade, many turned to run, and soon the entire group fled.
Behind them was a wall of bayonets from the enemy troops, but they preferred to crash into it rather than fight those ruthless bandits. It seemed the retreating soldiers were about to crush Zheng Song’s forces.
But Zheng Song was prepared: “All of you! Aim at the bandits—fire!”
Just as the retreating soldiers thought they could breathe easy, fireworks of bullets erupted from the enemy side, aimed straight at them.
A volley from 200 rifles! Many were knocked down at once. Ji Xinghui took several shots, blood gushing as he was flung backward. His dozen or so veterans, after fighting for so long, only lost three or four, while this single volley left most of them lying in pools of blood.
But it was the rank-and-file soldiers who suffered the most—this volley killed or wounded half of them, even more than the losses suffered by Ji Xinghui’s group!
“Fire!”

Zheng Song’s orders were merciless; dozens more bullets were fired, targeting every living being in front of them. Those allied soldiers who were used as cannon fodder never imagined that while they were fighting, Zheng Song’s personal guards had fired nearly two rounds of machine gun fire without distinguishing friends from enemies. They cared nothing about the casualties among their own allies—as long as they won, everything would be decided by the victors. “Fire!” Now, even those firearms with slower firing rates were ready, and dozens more bullets were shot out. All that could be seen was a sea of corpses; hardly any living people remained, except for three or four fierce bandits who moved nimbly and retreated to the barricades to exchange fire with their own side. Zheng Song drew the precious sword given to him by Governor Fan and shouted, “Kill!” The soldiers charged forward, stepping over their allied comrades’ bodies, firing their guns while waving their flags. Liu Yu also happened to turn around from the corner and saw a scene of bloodshed. In front of the barricades, the streets were already piled with corpses, leaving no space to move. Only three or four bloodied soldiers were still firing from the barricades. He never expected that the group of over ten people led by Ji Xinghui could achieve such results. “Advance toward the sound of gunfire!” Behind him was almost the entire main force of Liu Yu’s battalion. Liu Yu shouted, “Remingtons!” At this distance, the four Remingtons were at the perfect firing range. Flames erupted, knocking down three soldiers. The soldiers’ advance was halted as they saw countless bandits suddenly rushing out from the flanks, followed by figures on the barricades, with countless gun muzzles pointed at them. “Spencer—seven-shot burst! Ready!” “Fire!”