Chapter 29: Finding a Place to Settle Down (Part 1)

Gunfire rang out incessantly.
The Black Flag Army immediately halted and waited for Huang Shouzhong’s orders. Should they advance faster to seize an opportunity before the Vietnamese forces finished fighting, or retreat and wait for the battle to rage on?
Huang Shouzhong pricked up his ears. After hearing just one burst of gunfire, he was almost stunned numb. The sound was denser than the crackling of beans—how many guns were firing? Five hundred? A thousand?
He couldn’t help but gasp. So many rifles firing at once? Or were they telling the truth—were there really hundreds of breech-loading guns?
The more he thought about it, the more alarmed he became. As an experienced soldier, he could tell that among them were Remington rifles—at least twenty firing simultaneously.
Good heavens! Twenty Remingtons! The vanguard camp near Shanxi had hundreds of men, but only a dozen or so Remington rifles.
As for the other sharp noises, he couldn’t identify them, but those rifles seemed to have endless ammunition.
Being well-versed in weapons, he immediately realized, “It’s a repeating rifle? Dozens of them?”
Only repeating rifles like those from Winchester could fire at such a rate. But the Black Flag Army didn’t have such advanced weapons—they only had a hundred or so Remingtons and a few captured French breech-loading rifles.
“This is a formidable enemy!”
With that thought, he gave an order, “Don’t rush! Advance slowly. Wait until they’re exhausted, then we can take advantage of the situation.”
Though he said to advance slowly, in reality, they barely moved. The vanguard camp had experienced many battles, but even in large-scale conflicts involving tens of thousands of soldiers from all sides—like those between the Black Flag Army, Black Flag Army, Qing forces, and Vietnamese forces—they had never heard such intense gunfire.
Friends or enemies? Had they come to join the Black Flag Army?
While they hesitated, more than a dozen defeated Vietnamese soldiers, having lost their weapons, appeared in the Black Flag Army’s sight. They ran over, disheveled and wounded, terrified. Huang Shouzhong stepped forward and called out, “Guys, back from victory?”
These dozen defeated soldiers were out of breath. Even though they had encountered the Black Flag Army, who were offering refuge, they were still terrified. Several of them simply lay on the ground, tears streaming down their faces.
They had never seen such brutality. A young officer cried, “We’ve been defeated. Let’s retreat together.”
He didn’t dare ask the Black Flag Army to provide support, fearing he’d relive that nightmare. “Retreat quickly! Let’s go back into the city, close the gates, and bombard them with cannons.”
Huang Shouzhong replied, “The main force hasn’t retreated yet.”
“What main force? Let’s go! Officer Huang, I’m begging you this once.”
“But weren’t there over two hundred of you when you left?”
The young officer cried again, “They’re all here.”
Huang Shouzhong was extremely surprised. The combat strength of this so-called “Xiliu Camp” seemed too strong. He asked in astonishment, “All of them? Gone?”
“Gone! All of them are here!” the young officer sobbed. “There are piles of corpses along the riverbank—no idea how many died. We started with over 230 people, and now only a few of us are left. We fled as quickly as we could.”

He added, “Otherwise, it’s all gone.”
Huang Shouzhong’s shock was imaginable.
He was well aware of the Viet Cong’s combat strength, but this unit, wiped out by the Xiliu Camp, was different from ordinary Viet Cong forces—it was a well-organized elite unit with considerable combat power. Even the Black Flag Army would need some effort to deal with them.
Yet just a few minutes earlier, two hundred men had vanished without a trace, leaving only a dozen fugitives, after just a few rounds of gunfire.
Although the Black Flag Army was a highly combat-effective force, their vision was limited, and they lacked understanding of the changes brought about by advancements in weapons. They couldn’t imagine how terrifying the firepower could become with proper deployment of breech-loading rifles. As for the rest of the Black Flag Army, their understanding was even worse: “Are you trying to fool us? The enemy force also numbered two hundred—how did they disappear so quickly?”
“That’s right! Did you run away as soon as the battle started?”
“Exactly! You didn’t even pay attention to what was happening on the battlefield.”
“I swear it’s true! I’ll stake my head on it—if there’s even a lie, you can use my head as a drinking vessel.”
But they couldn’t describe exactly what a terrifying scene it had been. All they could confirm was that this force under the Xiliu Camp banner was extremely strong, with an astonishing number of breech-loading rifles—almost one per man—and firepower on an exaggeratedly fierce level.
Faced with such opponents, everyone backed down and retreated to Shanxi City to defend it, using cannons for bombardment as their strategy.
But Huang Shouzhong thought further: “What if this Xiliu Camp really comes to join our Black Flag Army? How should we handle that?”
He had considered annexing them before, but at the thought that the Xiliu Camp was ruthless enough to shoot down Vietnamese government troops without hesitation, his enthusiasm cooled significantly.
These people feared nothing, ready to risk their lives. Moreover, the Xiliu Camp had such advanced equipment. In the best case, both the Front Camp and the Xiliu Camp would be devastated; in the worst, the Front Camp might be completely eliminated.
So, how about cooperating with them? Huang Shouzhong pondered this again.
After all, they were claiming to join the Black Flag Army. He had the advantage of geography and could interact more with them, even considering making them an independent part of the Front Camp.
But after careful thought, Huang Shouzhong shook his head.
It was better to avoid such ruthless people. Besides, the Xiliu Camp had already angered Governor Huang Zuoyan and Governor Ruan severely. Even the strongest can’t overpower local forces—future troubles were inevitable.
Moreover, if the Front Camp and the Xiliu Camp united, their ambitions would be too great. The Front Camp was already the strongest unit in the entire Black Flag Army, with over a thousand men, even surpassing Liu Yongfu’s direct forces. If the Xiliu Camp were incorporated into the Front Camp, what would Liu Yongfu think?
After all, though Liu Yongfu was a rare hero, his vision wasn’t broad enough.
As he was thinking, someone reported, “Deng Cunyu, an envoy from the Xiliu Camp, has arrived.”
Huang Shouzhong looked up and saw it was indeed Deng Cunyu—a fake foreigner dressed as a priest but engaged in criminal activities. He said with a smile, “I’ve been sent by the Xiliu Camp to meet Lord Huang.”

Upon hearing the words “Xiliu Camp,” the soldiers in the front camp tensed up. They held complex feelings toward this unit that had wreaked havoc on the riverbank—curiosity, envy, or the desire to compete with them—but they saw a familiar arms dealer.
Huang Shouzhong asked, “What are the conditions of Xiliu Camp?”